


Friends and Lovers

by MycroftexMachina



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftexMachina/pseuds/MycroftexMachina
Summary: They are going to do their best. That's all they can do.





	Friends and Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel of I Wish Our Past Could Be Our Future. It's not going to make a lot of sense if you haven't read it.
> 
> In a story about homophobia in hockey, there must be bad guys. The ones here cast in this role were, for the most part, chosen because their homophobic comments and behaviors are a matter of public records. In other cases, they were selected because of questionable behaviors connected to the LGBTQIA community, women, or other minorities. 
> 
> Open support for YCP does not in my view means a person is not homophobic. It simply means that a person knows how to play the system. Homophobia in hockey is a deeply rooted phenomenon, which will never be solved until there is a drastic cultural change in the locker room. What Patrick Burke and his organization are going is admirable, but nevertheless insufficient. Until players are taught from their childhood about respect, tolerance and understanding of diversity—any diversity—we will continue to see episodes of homophobia on and off the ice. 
> 
> Additional Trigger Warnings: discussions of homophobia, mentions of Patrick Kane and of the Chicago Blackhawks.

 

**I.**

**The New York Times**

**March 27 2020**

**If You Can Play, Now You Will Be Able To:**

**Hundreds of NHL Hockey Players Take a Stand Against Discrimination**

By Lucas Monroe and Catherine Spenser. Photographs by Skylar Cannon

 

_You Can Play recently released two hundreds and twenty five new videos against discrimination in hockey. Although the focus was admittedly against homophobia, a good percentage of the videos were against misogyny, violence against women, racism, ableism and other discriminatory behaviors._

_Each video features a different hockey player, and each sends a strong, unequivocal message against any type of discrimination. At the same time, the NHL released a document detailing new rules about players’ expected behaviors on the ice, with a list of fines and punishments depending on the offense._

 

_What is remarkable about these two actions, which were planned and carried out in concert, is that they were spearheaded by the players, and not by either the league or YCP._

_“When things started happening, I was contacted immediately, of course,” Patrick Burke, the founder of YCP, admits. “But it became clear very quickly that this was something the players wanted to do themselves. What’s more, they wanted the message we’ve been trying to convey with YCP in the past several years to be more inclusive. I think the incidents in Vermont and Boston might have something to do with it.”_

_Burke is referring to the several hazing incidents documented in the past several years by the media, and involving repeated harassment against minorities, which led to the suspension to several white players._

_“We wanted to send a strong message against racism, that’s for sure,” PK Subban confirms. “It was crucial to all minority players in the league—we aren’t that many, and we stand out, especially me,” he admits with his usual charm and flair. “But it all started because of the clear lack of a cohesive voice against the homophobia that was going on behind closed doors.”_

_When asked to elaborate, Subban waves the question away. “All water under the bridge. And if it’s not, we are getting there fast enough. Let’s just say that some people needed the message to be explained to them in simpler words. You know, with diagrams.”_

_When we told Sidney Crosby about Subban’s comments, he laughs and grimaces at the same time, a feat in itself. “PK is right. We had to work hard to get some people on board. Many, however, jumped on the opportunity without any prompting. Especially the younger guys.”_

_Crosby is right. If he is the one who’s been fielding the highest number of interviews about this bomb the players dropped right before the playoffs—and knowing Crosby, the timing was deliberate—and if he’s the one whose imprint can be seen all over the new rules and the YCP videos, he has had powerful allies in Connor McDavid, the captain of the Edmonton Oilers, Auston Matthews, the alternate captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and Patrik Laine of the Winnipeg Jets. Equally influential have been Matthews’ teammate Mitch Marner and Arizona Coyotes’ Dylan Strome. Their hilarious and touching video hit twenty million views in less than twenty-four hours._

 

_“Sid is the brain behind this,” McDavid states, unwilling, as he often is, to take credit for something he had such a big impact on. “I can honestly say that if it weren’t for his support and assistance, we wouldn't be here today.”_

 

_“Davo [McDavid] is right, absolutely,” Matthews confirms. “We all worked hard, that’s true, and there was a common drive to make this happen, you know. We were all committed. But it was Sid who worked the hardest. He was the one who went out of his way to contact team captains and convince them that more needed to be done. That the message was not getting across, and that it needed to be repeated with more emphasis.”_

 

_The message, of course, is well known: if you can play, you can play. What Sidney Crosby and his band of modern crusaders argued—with Burke, with NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman, with the Players Association, with university and college boards across North America, with their teammates and team management and maybe, more importantly, with their fans—is that if you mean it, then you do it. That if you are really tolerant of everyone—whether they identify as gay, bi, transgender or something else—you don't use offensive terms referring to them to diminish your opponent. If you are really tolerant of Asian-American, African-American, Latino and other minorities, you don’t use any of the numerous slurs available to all and sundry. If you are respectful of women—on and off the ice—you don't call them or address them, or anyone else, in derogatory terms. The list goes on and the message is clear: If you do, there are consequences, and they are substantial. No more $10,000 fines. No more 0 days of suspensions if you apologize, even half-heartedly._

 

_“To achieve tolerance, we had to have zero tolerance,” Crosby says, somewhat contradictorily, his detractors argue. “This is what we told everyone willing to listen.”_

**Summer 2017**

When Connor calls Sidney Crosby, Mitch is sitting in Dylan’s basement for what seems like the twentieth time in the past week. It’s the Tuesday after the tourney, which Mikey’s team won. Since Davo and Matts were on that team, they are pretty cheerful, still riding out the high of having squashed Ryan’s team. One would think winning all that hardware in Vegas would have been enough, but Mitch has quite honestly never met someone as competitive as Connor McDavid and Auston Matthews, so he is not exactly surprised.

 

Mitch and Dylan, on the other hand, are not displaying tremendous happiness, since they were on the losing team. Still, neither of them can complain. Dylan has been on cloud nine since Saturday and Mitch is so relieved his two friends have made up—and then some—that he really doesn't care who won the fucking tournament. It’s not going to be the last one of the summer anyway.

 

He is interested, however, in what Sidney Crosby is going to say when Connor McDavid calls him to explain how things went down back in January. Leon Draisaitl had to leave, but Auston stuck around, claiming he wants to see this thing through and that his own encounter might provide some larger context for Connor’s. Mitch can tell Connor appreciates the offer. As much as Davo is considered the second coming of Crosby, Mitch knows Connor gets flustered when he talks to the real deal. He might be in love with Dylan—and Mitch cannot but think “Yuck!” every time he remembers that—but every Canadian hockey players below the age of twenty-five has a monumental crush on Sidney Fucking Crosby, present company included. Auston may be the only one who doesn't, and Mitch is not so sure about that. Denial is not just the name of a river in Egypt.

 

“Are you sure he said it’s okay if we sit in?” Dylan asks for the third time.

 

“Yes, Dyls,” Davo says patiently. He is setting up his phone for the call, but he sends his boyfriend a smile. “He is really super nice, don't worry.”

 

“I am not worried,” Dylan mumbles, although he clearly is, in Mitch’s opinion. He is fiddling with the clasp of his watch when he is not playing with his phone.

 

Mitch, who is sitting on the couch with Dylan, rolls his eyes at Matts, who is on one of the basement’s armchairs. Davo is on the other, and by the looks of it, he is finally done with the phone.

 

“Ready?” he asks. Mitch, Dylan and Matts nod resolutely and Davo connects the call.

 

After only two rings, Sidney Crosby picks up.

 

“Connor?” His voice comes out loud and clear from Davo’s phone’s speakers.

 

“Hi, Sid.”

 

“Hi, Connor. How are you?” Sid’s tone expresses real concerns and Mitch feels his eyes well up for no apparent reasons.

 

“I am fine, Sid, thanks,” Connor says sincerely, while Dylan squeezes Mitch’s knee. He must have noticed Mitch’s momentary loss of control, because his eyes are kind and there is a soft smile on his face. Whatever. This whole thing has been a mess, and Mitch has been furious for the past three days on Davo and Matts’ behalf.

 

“Okay, good,” Sidney Crosby says somewhat awkwardly. “I am really glad you got in touch with me.”

 

“You should thank Matts for that,” Davo says, and it is Matts’ turn to roll his eyes. Mitch knows that, as much as he likes to be the center of attention when he is on the ice, Matts prefers to fade in the background when he’s off it. It makes leading his colorful life a lot easier.

 

“Is he there?” Crosby asks.

 

“Yes, with Stromer and Marns, as I mentioned,” Davo clarifies.

 

“Good. Hey guys,” he says, and Mitch pictures him waving at them all.

 

“Hi Sid,” Matts says, because he met him, the lucky dick.

 

Mitch and Stromer are more demure, mumbling a “Hello, Mr. Crosby,” that makes Connor laugh and Crosby chuckle.

 

“You are not going to be so polite when you check me in the boards next time we face each other on the ice. Sid is fine.”

 

“Awesome,” Mitch says, because he is not good at being demure for long. “Although I am going to leave checking you into the boards to Mo and Gards, if you don't mind.”

 

Sid laughs good-naturedly, but Matts and Davo groans. Stromer offers Mitch a fist bump, because he is the coolest person in the room besides Mitch. Matts and Davo have too much of the teacher-pet soul in them to ever be able to do cool with east.

 

“Sounds good. Which reminds me. Have you talk to Morgan about what’s going on?”

 

“Not since the spring, Sid,” Matts intervenes.

 

“Okay, so he doesn't know about what happened in LA with you, Connor?”

 

“No. I have only spoken about it with the people in this room and Drai.”

 

“Drai?” Sidney asks confused.

 

“Leon Draisaitl,” Davo clarifies.

 

“Ah, yes. Excellent center. Good complement to your abilities, Connor.”

 

Mitch’s eyes go wide and he is almost jealous on Stromer’s behalf, but Dylan smiles at Connor’s obvious delight that Sidney Crosby just complimented one of his teammates.

 

“He has been very supportive, Sid.”

 

“Tell me exactly what happened in LA,” Crosby says. “Then you guys can give me the rundown on who you think would be receptive about a larger discussion on how to stop this from happening ever again.”

 

Davo takes a deep breath and recounts the events of last January.

 

Mitch has already heard the highlights: being approached by a veteran at the All Stars; being told that YCP is just lip service and that none of the players really believes in what Patrick Burke has been trying to accomplish in the League; being seemingly recruited in a homophobic coven of asshole by virtue of being the captain of the Oilers and one of the new generational talents; going back to Edmonton and feeling _wretched_ for weeks, until Draisaitl had forced him to talk; trying to figure out what to do and then talking to Matts, just a few days ago. Davo only leaves out the entire disaster with Dylan and their recent reconciliation. Mitch doesn't blame him. It’s not relevant, and Dylan might not appreciate getting outed just yet, although Mitch imagines him and Davo already talked about it.

 

Mitch gets infuriated all over again and he can feel his blood boil. Stromer gets up and goes to sit on the arm of Connor’s armchair, hugging him loosely to show support while Davo recounts his horrific experience.

 

Mitch doesn't know how he would have reacted in the circumstances. He is very different from Davo—and besides, he doesn't have the weight of a franchise on his shoulders. He shares it with an army of rookies like him, four alternates and the rest of the team. Still, Mitch can’t help but thinking he, too, would have felt completely adrift had he had a similar conversation, despite all the blusters he displays on a regular basis.

 

The seat besides him dips, and Mitch sees that Matts has vacated his spot on the other armchair and he is now sitting in Dylan’s place.

 

“You good?” he whispers, grabbing Mitch’s nape gently in a show of support.

 

“I just want to kill them all,” Mitch whispers back, but it’s in a lull of the conversation, so everyone hears it.

 

“We are going to try to avoid that, Mitch. It’s Mitch, right?” Sid asks.

 

“Yes. Or Marns. Sorry about that,” Mitch says. Yet, he’s glad to see how much his support means to Davo and Stromer, who are both beaming at him.

 

“No need to apologize. When Auston came to me in January, I was ready to go to do the same. Apparently, however, Patrick Burke thinks education is better than violence.”

 

“There isn’t much education that can be imparted if the League doesn't buy into the message, Sid,” Mitch objects. “Look at what happened with Getzlaf during the playoffs.”

 

“Yes, that was unfortunate,” Sid sighs.

 

“With all due respect, Sid, it wasn’t just unfortunate, it was awful,” Mitch says. “He was fined $10,000. $10,000! He makes almost ten million dollars a year. And he didn't even apologize.”

 

“I know, I know,” Sid says. “If it’s of any consolation, I never heard him saying anything like that when I played with him. Still, it doesn't excuse his behavior, or the Ducks’ or the League’s, for that matter.”

 

Mitch has one of those very pesky, “Oh, shit!” moment, before the dots connect.

 

“Fuck! You won gold with him at the Olympics,” he realizes.

 

“Twice,” Stromer laughs, Davo right behind him.

 

“Jesus,” Mitch says, hiding his face in his hands. “I don't know if I should apologize or throw myself out a window.”

 

“We are in the basement,” Stromer reminds him helpfully. Mitch flips him all and Stromer laughs again.

 

Sid is laughing too, and so is Matts, the asshat.

 

“Do neither, please,” Sid say. “I appreciate the sentiment and Ryan is one of the people I intend to have a conversation with, once we have the semblance of a plan in place.”

 

Mitch mumbles an “Okay” that has everyone in stitches again.

 

“Is that it, Connor?” Sid asks.

 

“Yes, that’s it. I really wish I’d called you immediately.”

 

“That’s why I gave you my number last season,” Sid says, but there is no reproach in his words. “Though, to be fair, I had other problems in mind when I told you to get in touch with me if you needed.”

 

“I bet,” Davo snorts.

 

“Can you fill me in about the conversation you had with Morgan, Auston? And your feel for the Leafs locker-room? I will get to you in a minute, Mitch.”

 

Stromer and Matts laughs at Mitch, _again_ , and Mitch faux-pouts, because his opinions are excellent and valuable. Yet, he wasn't in LA, he hasn't been harassed and he hasn't had to talk to the Leafs about it. Matts, like the awesome friend he is when he is not colluding with the enemy, pats him on the head with a smile.

 

“Yes, of course, but I thought Mo called you.”

 

“He did,” Sid says. “I still want to hear _your_ version.”

 

“Okay,” Matts acquiesces. “I went to tell him what happened soon after I got back from LA. He was very upset and supportive, like you’d been. With the other veterans, he had just been filming that ad with Shanny about Men of Quality, so he was even madder that I had expected him to be.”

 

“I saw that,” Stromer interjects. “It wasn't about homophobia, though.”

 

“No, it was about misogyny,” Matts says, “but Mo’s line was actually about homophobia. Anyways,” he continues, “he asked me how the whole thing had happened and I told him what I told you, Sid. I also told him that I talked to you, which is why he called you, I assume. He asked me if it was okay that he share the info with the other As and I told him to go ahead. We kept it out of management for now. That was the last I heard of it, except for the whole ‘Patrick Burke told you to hold your horses’ thing.”

 

“Yeah,” Sid muses. “I told you Patrick is all about educating the players rather than having Mitch charging them on his white horse.”

 

“I mean, I am sure lots of players can be educated,” Matts acknowledges. Mitch, however, can see that he is deflecting.

 

“You aren’t convinced,” he says.

 

Matts says nothing, so Sid asks, “What’s the situation in the locker-room?”

 

“It’s more or less fine,” Matts explains. “Mo is awesome and he has a really good way of diffusing tense situations. Bozie and Leo offer input when needed and so does Matt. He works really hard and mostly leads by example rather than with big speeches, but he is a good guy.”

 

“But there have been some problems?” Sid prods.

 

Mitch can tell he is uncomfortable asking about another team’s locker-room dynamics, and so is Matts about being asked, because he pauses long enough that Sid sighs.

 

“I get it that you are loyal to your teammates, Auston,” Sid says, “but we aren’t going to get anywhere if we don't know who we’re up against. I told you back in January: there aren’t as many people around like that anymore, but if we want to make the NHL a place where a gay kid can come play _for real_ , we need to work all our angles.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Matts says flushing; Mitch can’t blame him. It’s Sidney Fucking Crosby.

 

“No need to apologize. I’ve had my share of issues in the locker-room with this stuff too. I know it’s hard, especially when you are unable to explain to your teammates that what they are doing is wrong.”

 

“Okay,” Matts says. “So, some of the guys have used slurs—the usual ones, nothing particularly creative. When Mo hears that, he rips them a new one, and they tend to apologize profusely. If it’s the Russians, they talk to each other about it, but it’s hard to figure out whether they understand and agree or if they’re simply playing along, you know.”

 

“The Russian players are a problem in and of itself, with all the propaganda they have to digest when they go home,” Sid acknowledges. “We cannot do anything about them, unfortunately. You’ll never get Geno or Ovechkin to do a YCP video. The best you can hope is that they don't share their government’s view and move on.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it,” Davo comments.

 

“I have been playing with Geno for more than a decade and against Ovi for just as much,” it’s the laconic answer. Mitch decides not to prod that bear.

 

“What’s your read, Mitch?” Sid _finally_ asks, and Mitch is so ready.

 

“I think everyone would be cool with whatever it is you want to do. I mean, there are some players I don't know as well as Matts or Matty, but all the young guys are fine.”

 

“Yes, that’s a thing I’ve noticed,” Sid interrupts. “Your generation is a lot more tolerant than mine.”

 

“Right,” Mitch says. “Leo would be fine with it too. He uses tough love or whatever, but it’s for the team’s good, you know. He is not going to trash someone because they are gay or bi.”

 

“That’s reassuring,” Sid laughs.

 

“Management is trickier, though,” Mitch adds. “It’s a bunch of older guys, so who knows. I mean, Lou and Shanny supported the ad we did in the spring, but it’s bigger than just the two of them, and it’s not like hockey fans attend Pride.”

 

It’s Davo’s turn to hide his face in his hands, like he can’t believe he has such a moronic friend. Stromer snorts and Matts groans.

 

Still, Mitch is vindicated when Sid says, “And therein lies the problem.”

 

“Yep,” Mitch says. “If Burke wants to educate, he’s gonna have to plan classes for more people than just the players.”

 

Sid is quiet for a few second; then he says, “Connor? What about your locker-room?”

 

Mitch sees Stromer squeeze Connor’s shoulder in encouragement.

 

“More or less like the Leafs’, I would say. Leon is completely supportive. I found that, when it comes to players from central and northern Europe, homophobia is less present.”

 

Mitch nods enthused, “Willy and Kappy are super cool about this sort of stuff.”

 

“Yeah,” Sid agrees. “I can say the same of some of my teammates.”

 

“Right,” Connor resumes. “Nuge and Nursey are going to be on board with anything we decide to do, and so is Ebs.”

 

Mitch can see a flash of sadness pass through Davo’s eyes. Losing Taylor last year and Jordan Eberle this year must not have been easy, even if the Eberle trade brought in Ryan Strome, whom Connor knows well.

 

“I haven’t talked to them directly about what happened,” Connor continues, “but I know them well enough to know this about them. Hallsy is gonna be fine too, by the way.”

 

“I know,” Sid concurs. “And I know for a fact that he gets a lot of messed up insults.”

 

“No kidding,” Davo says. “Others, however, are harder to read.”

 

Mitch can tell that Davo is hesitant to name names, which is something they are going to overcome if Sid is right.

 

“To be fair,” Dylan says, “you’ve been captain for just one year, and there are some new faces in the locker-room.”

 

“Dylan is right, Connor,” Sid says. “It takes a while to get the pulse of your locker-room. I don't expect you to know everything about everyone. However, I think that, realistically, our teammates will be the people who’ll help us the most changing the NHL locker-room culture. That’s why is so important to figure this out and to know who harassed you and Auston.”

 

Mitch is a bit uncomfortable in the silence that follows, and thankfully, Sid doesn't press the point.

 

“What about you, Dylan? Any ideas about Arizona?”

 

Stromer’s eyes widen at being asked that, but he recovers quickly. “I haven’t spent enough time with them to tell you much, to be honest. I know Dvo well, and I never got the impression he’d have a problem with this kind of stuff. Law too; I know him from juniors and the draft, and he is going to be cool, though Marns knows him better.”

 

“Yeah, Law is solid, Sid,” Mitch confirms. “Lawson Crouse. He is a moron who eats worms but he is a good egg.”

 

“What are you, his mother?” Matts laughs, getting Mitch into a headlock and giving him a noogie.

 

“I guess there is a story there I probably don't want to hear,” Sid says.

 

“It’s on YouTube,” Stromer informs him. “Davo lost one hundred bucks.”

 

“Anyway,” Sid moves the conversation along, but Mitch can tell he is amused. “Anything else, Dylan?”

 

“I mean, Max Domi was very nice, and so was Ekman-Larsson. But everyone was, and when I was there I was so focused on making the team; I was not really paying attention to other things. Though I don't remember anyone using homophobic slurs.”

 

“I know Clayton Keller from the USNDTP, Sid,” Matts adds, “and I can talk to him whenever you want me to. He’s going to be cool with this.”

 

“This doesn't seem very efficient, though,” Mitch comments, because going through the roster of every NHL team is going to take too much time.

 

“I agree,” Sid says, “which is way I am still waiting for Connor and Auston to let me know who they were approached by.”

 

Mitch turns towards Matts with a grimace and he sees him scrubbing his hand on his face. On his left side, Connor takes a deep breath, which he lets out slowly.

 

“Do you guys want me and Stromer to leave?” Mitch asks, because he is friends with both of them, and Dylan is Davo’s boyfriend, but he understands that this might be difficult.

 

Davo shakes his head and says, “Not for me, Mitchy. I am good.”

 

Matts also shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. And since I am the one who got approached first, I will go first. It was Kane.”

 

Mitch’s eyes widen, but, by looking at Davo’s reaction, he suspects Connor was expecting something like that.

 

“Please tell me you weren’t contacted by Jonathan Toews,” Mitch says, with his usual lack of tact.

 

“No, it was Kesler,” Davo says ruefully, and it doesn't make it any better, because Mitch thought Kesler was a cool dude, but whatever.

 

“Jesus,” Sid says over the phone, echoing Mitch’s feeling. Jesus indeed.

 

“Yeah,” Matts and Davo say at the same time, and that really sums it up.

 

“Wait a minute,” Mitch says, “hasn't Kesler done a video or something for YCP?”

 

Auston is checking on his phone, and he must have started to do so as soon as Davo spilled the beans, because he’s the one that answer, “Yep. A few years back.”

 

“I knew that didn't mean anything,” Connor says saddened.

 

“He is just a fucking jerk,” Dylan says side-hugging Davo.

 

Mitch agrees. Everyone in the League knows Kesler’s play and tactics, and he is as dirty as they come, often skirting very close to the line of legal plays. Davo himself has been a target quite often since they are in the same division. Yet, this doesn't necessarily translate to homophobia, except when it does.

 

“I wonder why they sent him to you,” Sid muses.

 

“Who is they?” Mitch asks.

 

“Well,” Sid says, “do you think these people just wake up one day and decide ‘Let’s just warn the newbies about how things are run in the big league?’ I am assuming there is at least some level of organization.”

 

“Don’t you captains, like, talk about these things?” Mitch inquires.

 

Connor snorts delicately while Sid explains, “Not really? There isn’t some secret captain network, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what he was asking, Sid,” Matts says. “He’s been making fun of Mo the whole year about it. Mo claimed there is nothing like that, and Mitchy, here, kept telling him Mo doesn't know anything because he’s not a captain.”

 

“Maybe you should make one up just for Mo,” Mitch suggests, thinking about a potentially hilarious prank, but Connor grimaces.

 

“No, thanks. Then I’d have to talk to Getzlaf, and I really don't want to unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

 

“What about Patrick Kane?” Dylan interjects.

 

“What about him?” Sid says, and his voice is suddenly cold.

 

“I mean,” Stromer stutters, which is really unlike him, “he is, like, one of the faces of the League…”

 

“I know, Dylan,” Sid sighs, “I am sorry. I didn't mean to sound snappish.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Stromer says, while mouthing silently ‘Help me!’

 

“I have to admit it was really bad,” Matts confesses, passing a hand through his hair. “I’d wanted to meet him for a long time and I was so excited.”

 

“I am really sorry, Auston,” Sid repeats.

 

“Not your fault,” Matts says.

 

“Well,” Mitch says, because he still hasn't found a topic he’s not afraid of touching. “It’s not, like, totally out of character.”

 

Davo and Stromer frown at the same time and Matts nods thoughtfully.

 

“I’d hoped he had finally grown out of it,” Sid remarks, and Mitch doesn't know Crosby, like, at all, but even he can read a mixture of disappointment and sadness in his voice.

 

“Do you think Toews know?” Matts asks.

 

“I honestly have no idea,” Sid says. “I still haven’t told Jonny about any of this. I know he had some problems with Andrew Shaw—that’s been in the news a lot when it happened. But with regards to Kaner, I don't really know. To be fair,” Sid continues, “Jonny never talks to me about him.”

 

“It does make sense,” Stromer says. “I mean, with everything that’s happened with Kane since he made it to the NHL, it must not have been easy for his captain, regardless of whether it’s truth or gossip.”

 

“This is a clusterfuck of epic proportion,” Mitch states, and, once again, everyone in the room groans.

 

“What? It’s not like you weren’t thinking it.”

 

“Maybe language, Marns?” Davo suggests, and Mitch rolls his eyes.

 

“Bullshit. I am sorry, Sid, but I saw you curse up a storm on more than one occasion. I think you can handle clusterfuck.”

 

“Indeed,” Sid replies amused, because Mitch bets he’s not the virginal Canadian boy Davo is making him out to be.

 

“See,” Mitch says to his friends, feeling vindicated. It’s not like they don't have enough problems already without having to worry about fucking _language_.

 

“Okay, fine,” Davo relents. “You’re right. What do we do now, Sid?”

 

“Now I make some phone calls. Do I have permission to mention you guys by name?”

 

Davo and Matts nod forcefully and so do Mitch and Stromer.

 

“We are all nodding, Sid,” Mitch explains, because he’s helpful like that.

 

“Okay, Mitch, thanks,” Sid smiles. “Let me call a few people. I am going to get in touch with Morgan, if that’s okay with you, Auston.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Matts responds. “He’s gonna be happy to be kept in the loop.”

 

“I’m afraid he will have to do more than being kept in the loop if we want to do something about this.”

 

“Can I ask who else you’re going to contact?” Stromer says. “Because I think John Tavares would be of help. My brother Ryan has always said he is great.”

 

“He’s on my list, and so is Ekman-Larsson. I’m also getting in touch with Stamkos, Price and Weber.”

 

“Weber and Price aren’t captains,” Davo remarks.

 

“That is correct, but I know them better than I know Pacioretty. That’s also why I’m going to call Nate McKinnon and not Landeskog, although Nate swears by him.”

 

“Do you need us to do anything?” Davo asks like the good boy he is. Mitch smirks at Stromer, who rolls his eyes.

 

“Talk to your friends, even those who still haven’t gotten to the League. You played with DeBrincat, right?”

 

“Oh shit,” Mitch says, because Brinsky was drafted by the Blackhawks.

 

“Precisely,” Sid says. “Tell him as much about this as you feel comfortable—assuming you think you should…”

 

“Brinsky’s awesome, Sid,” Stromer jumps him. “Like, if things are bad in Chicago because of this, he’s gonna be crushed. He knows about me and Davo.”

 

“You and Davo?” Sid asks hesitantly.

 

Stromer goes as read as his Coyotes jersey and it’s Davo’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

“Right,” he says, “you haven’t been around and have missed all the drama of the past few days.”

 

“It was like the Titanic, but nobody died,” Mitch adds helpfully, and Matts swats him on the head.

 

“What?” he says turning towards him. “It’s true. It was super-romantic and cute and, I am assuming, super-hot. You should have been here, Sid.”

 

By now, Sid is clearly trying to hide his laughter. Stromer is hiding his face in Davo’s shoulder and Matts is shaking his head like he does when Willy is stuck at the grocery store, unable to decide between two brands of conditioner.

 

“Clearly a love story for the ages,” Sid jokes, but he hadn’t been around for all the disgusting moping, lucky him.

 

“Exactly,” Mitch says.

 

“Anyways,” Davo intervenes, “as Dylan so nicely put it, Alex knows about us, and he is happy, excited and worried about the whole thing. He’s also like a Rottweiler. He’s not going to let homophobic bullshit fly in the locker-room, even if he’s a rookie.”

 

“Even more the reason to tell him,” Sid insists. “I’m going to try to talk to Jonny too, but he’s often difficult to get a hold of during off-season. And considering how his season ended…”

 

Sid doesn't need to finish the sentence. The Blackhawks crashed and burned pretty quickly, so it’s conceivable Toews is licking his wounds, even if he appeared at the draft in Chicago.

 

“Talk to your friends: people from USNTDP, from junior, from your team. See where they stand, and if you trust them, let them know what’s happening. Figure out if this has been going on for a while or if it’s a new thing—Davo, do ask Nugent-Hopkins if something similar happened to him two years ago.”

 

“Okay,” they all promise.

 

“Thanks, Sid,” Davo says.

 

“No, Connor, thank _you_ , for trusting me with this. I wish I’d done more in the past about the situation. But there was always something else, you know? Another season, another Olympics, another injury. We can’t afford to wait any longer. Especially if young players are being targeted so deliberately.”

 

“Okay,” Davo says, and Mitch smiles at him widely. He is absolutely stoked they have Sidney Fucking Crosby on their team.

 

“We’ll be in touch, guys, alright?”

 

They all nod and say their goodbyes before Davo hangs up. Silence reigns supreme for several minutes. Davo is aggressively cuddling into Stromer’s side, and Dylan is running his hand up and down Davo’s arm in a gesture meant to comfort. Mitch sinks into the couch and leans heavily against the backseat. He feels like he’s just run a marathon. Matts too is sprawled on the couch, his head held up by his left hand, eyes staring at the ceiling.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Mitch says, because it bears repeating.

 

“Yep,” Connor concurs, scrubbing his face with his hand. “I guess we have a lot of things to do.”

 

“You think?”

 

**II.**

 

_(continues from the front page)_

 

_Ryan Geztlaf, the captain of the Anaheim Ducks whose non-apology during the 2017 playoffs had been widely criticized at the time, was the one charged with developing a list of suggestions for apt fees and suspension recommendations that has gotten the bulk of attention from commentators._

_“The lawyers did most of the work,” Geztlaf admits sheepishly. “But I helped as much as I could. In retrospect, what I did was idiotic, but the way I handled myself in its aftermath was absolutely appalling. When Sid asked me to work on this specific aspect of his project, I was delighted. It helped me figure things out and understand matters better.”_

_“Ryan sells himself short,” laughs John Tavares who, together with Ryan Strome of the Edmonton Oilers, Nick Foligno, captain of the Columbus Blue Jackets, and Carey Price, the Montreal Canadiens goalie, worked on this. “He had the greatest input; and he was the one who suggested that a percentage of the fines should be donated to LGBTQIA and other groups, depending on the infraction. And we had to rein him in. He was coming up with draconian suggestions!”_

_It doesn't stop with Geztlaf, of course, as Crosby is quick to make clear. “Many of the captains took a leadership role when I contacted them,” he says. “Claude [Giroux] partnered with several local Philadelphia groups in order to reach out in the community to educate the public.”_

_“It’s true, although that came later,” Claude Giroux, captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, agrees. “When Sid called me and explained me what had happened”—something none of the players is willing to discuss—“the first thing I thought was: the signs have to stop.”_

_Giroux is referring to the numerous homophobic signs that used to litter the Flyers’ Arena when the Pittsburgh Penguins were in town and which, for the most part, targeted Crosby himself._

_“I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t thought about it before,” Giroux admits, “but I had kind of let it go, because fans are fans and the rivalry between the Flyers and the Pens is historic. But I realized that excuse was no longer tenable.”_

_Indeed, the Flyers’ fans are probably the ones who had the hardest time adjusting, despite having a captain whose most famous insult is the remarkably mild ‘pigeon’. “It’s a slow process,” Wayne Simmonds, one of the Flyers’ alternate captains, confesses, “but they are learning. We all are.”_

 

**Summer 2017**

 

Mitch goes back to Toronto to focus on his training and on his other commitments. He’s been invited to a bunch of events and he has to do some off-season interviews. Yet, he finds the time to touch base with some of his teammates about what’s been going on.

 

Before Matts went back to Arizona, he and Mitch had decided to ‘divide and conquer’, so to speak. Since Matts has to deal with so many guys from USNDTP, Mitch gets most of the Leafs rookies. Before getting in touch with them, however, he calls Matty and explains to him what has been happening.

 

It turns out, Matty already knows, since Mo had used him as a sounding board.

 

“You do what you have to do, Mitchy,” he says. “If someone even thinks about complaining, I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Did you miss the part about education, not violence?” Mitch asks laughing.

 

“No, I heard that part well enough. You take care of educating people. I will take care of the rest.”

 

A few days later, Mitch Skypes with Willy, who may look like a Disney Prince, but has the heart of a ruthless assassin when his friends are threatened. Willy knows neither Davo nor Stromer, but he is so incensed about what Mitch tells him that he immediately wants to call his dad. Mitch has to convince him to wait until they’ve heard back from Crosby.

 

“Do you want me to talk to my brother and Kappy?” Willy asks, because he’s objectively awesome.

 

“That’d be great,” Mitch says. “There’s so much to do, and it’s quite honestly nerve-wrecking.”

 

Willy snorts. “I wonder why Crosby has enlisted a bunch of rookies for this.”

 

“I think it’s because of Matts. He was the one who went to complain to him about it, you know?”

 

“And how is our resident Calder Winner?” Willy asks wagging his eyebrows.

 

Mitch blushes, because Willy does ‘suggestive’ pretty well, even when there is nothing to suggest.

 

“He’s your liney. Haven’t you talked to him?”

 

“Only at the end of June after he won the Calder. I’ve been busy.”

 

“Well, give him a call or something. He is home for a bit,” Mitch tells him, feeling a bit like he is Matts’ social secretary.

 

“Or you can tell me how he’s doing. Is it a state secret?” Willy asks, because he is an ass.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Nope. And if it is, I am not aware of it. He’s fine. He’s certainly handling this shit better than Davo.”

 

“To be fair, Davo must have been under a lot of stress in the last two years.”

 

“So has Matts,” Mitch comments. “I just think that Davo really believes he has to do everything and do it perfectly, you know?”

 

Willy hums but doesn't say anything about that.

 

“It’s true that Matts is the chilliest dude I’ve played with,” he says. Then he goes back to the topic at hand.

 

“I’ll talk to my brother tonight, and I’ll call Kappy tomorrow. I am not sure where he’s, but that shouldn't be a problem.”

 

“Thanks again,” Mitch says. “I’ll let you know if something comes up. Or rather, when it comes up.”

 

“Please do,” Willy says, wagging his eyebrows _again._

 

Mitch sighs and hangs up on him. If he were to worry about all of Willy’s innuendos, he’d be dead by the time he turns twenty-one.

 

When he checks his phone, he sees he has a Snap from Stromer, whose summer is getting crazier and crazier, what with Matt being drafted by the Flyers and Ryan going to Edmonton. It’s a photo of him and Matts on the ice in Arizona. Mitch picks up the phone and hits dial.

 

“Marns, my boy,” Stromer says.

 

“What are you doing in Arizona?” Mitch asks. He’ll be the first to admit he’s sometimes dumb. It’s not like Stromer has been traded.

 

“What do you think?” Stromer says, because he’s a dick, like all of Mitch’s friends today.

 

“Okay, fine. You didn't tell me you were going down, though.”

 

“Davo had to go back to Edmonton for a few days and I wanted to touch base with the doctors and trainers here. Matts has been an excellent chaperone.”

 

“Didn't realize you needed one, Stromer,” Mitch smirks.

 

“One never knows,” Stromer says. “Anyways, Law is here too. Matts and I are going out with him tonight, so we’ll take care of him.”

 

“Jesus,” Mitch says. “It’s like planning a fucking winter campaign in Russia or something.”

 

Stromer laughs, “I know. Davo told me that Crosby reads everything there is on WWII. Do you think he’s pretending to be a tactician or something?”

 

“Or something,” Mitch mumbles. “By the way, I talked to Nylander just a few minutes ago. He’s going to cover Kappy and Alex Nylander too. Which got me thinking: who is getting in touch with Eichs?”

 

“Good question. I’ll ask Matts, but I can do it, or Davo can.”

 

“Okay. Let me know how things go on your end.”

 

“Will do. Matts and I are flying back to Toronto in a week. Can you pick us up?”

 

“Send me the flight info. And do not ask someone else too like you did the last time. If I cannot do it, I will let you know.”

 

“Okay, okay. Talk to you later, loser.”

 

Mitch doesn't deign Stromer of an answer and hangs up on him too. He lays on his bed and starts thinking, as it’s been happening often in the past few weeks, about all the shit that’s going down in the league. He is honestly not very impressed. Or rather, he’s impressed with his guys—those he’s been in touch with and those he knows will take a firm stand. He’s just not impressed with the rest.

 

Mitch will admit he’s not the most introspective and thoughtful guy. He’ll also admit that he’s not at the forefront of any fight about social issues, or whatever these things they are trying to deal with are. Still, even he can’t believe what Matts and Davo went through. It’s pretty appalling and he’s somewhat glad he wasn't voted into the All Star Team—he honestly doesn't know how he’d handled it.

 

Mitch feels awful for Davo, because it must have suck, especially since Davo clearly was harboring a secret love for the ages for Stromer—those two are some of his closest friends and he loves them like brothers, but sometimes they are as dumb as a bag of rocks. Only good for hockey, apparently. Since Mitch has known them, they’ve been looking at each other with stars in their eyes—it’s actually pretty gross, but also kind of cute.

 

That’s why he is so grateful to Matts, who really saved the day a few weeks back by reassuring Davo about how what had happened in LA was not the end of the world. Matts has been awesome with the whole thing, to be quite honest, though Mitch is still a bit pissed off about the fact that he didn't tell him what had happened. He thought they were friends. And they are, and Matts had apologized in private after they’d gotten up that morning to go and bother Davo and Stromer at their reunion. Still, it had hurt a tiny bit. But Matts is awesome, and he’s been since he broke a glass on a pass from Mitch on the first day of training camp.

 

Not only is Mitch not the most introspective guy, he’s also not one to be particularly in touch with his feelings—though, to be fair, he’s yet to meet a guy his age who is. Nevertheless, he’s sufficiently self-aware to realize that, over the past ten months, his crush on Matts’ hockey has developed into a crush on Matts’ everything. I mean, the guy is honestly a bit funny-looking—something for which he gets mercilessly chirped in the locker-room, even if it doesn't prevent him from hooking up on the regular. But he’s hilarious and always up to follow Mitch in his crazy schemes—read: fedoras—and he’s built like a truck, which really doesn't hurt.

 

Now, Mitch hasn’t spent an inordinately amount of time thinking about Matts’ sexuality over the past ten months, mostly because he’s only seen him with girls. But the whole thing about the All Star, and how Matts immediately reached out to Crosby with the hot potato he found himself juggling, got him thinking.

 

On the one hand, Matts might be straight, but so progressive that he got mad and wanted to right a wrong. On the other hand, Matts might be not so straight, and equally progressive, and felt like he had to defend his rights. Mitch has to admit he doesn't know how to read the situation, which is why he tried to telegraph to Stromer not to make any assumptions that early morning when things got cleared up.

 

It’s a bit tiresome, all this thinking about feelings. Mitch is a pro-athlete, for fuck’s sake, though he tries not to behave like one. Still, this thing with Matts has been on his mind for a while now—since November, if he’s honest—and it’s ultimately part of the reason why he broke up with his girlfriend. Now that they are all in “secret plan mode with Sidney Crosby”, things are even more complicated.

 

Mitch is distracted from his musing by a FaceTime call from Matts himself. Rolling his eyes, because he can see the devil’s—or Stromer’s—handiwork, he answers it.

 

“I thought you were hanging out with your new BFF,” he says to Matts.

 

“Jealous, Marns?” Matts laughs.

 

“Devastated. I don't think I will ever recover,” he says with a sigh.

 

“He tell you about our plan, right?” Matts asks.

 

“Yeah, he called a while ago. Thanks for that, by the way. But Law is going to be really chill.”

 

“I am not worried. But Stromer said something about Eichs.”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “I really want to be in the room when he’s told, just to see the color of his face.”

 

“Not his expression?” Matts asks innocently, like he doesn't know Eichs.

 

“Don't front it,” Mitch calls him out, “it’s not like you haven’t experience the famous “Eichel’s Resting Bitch Face”. He displays it often enough with the media.”

 

Matts giggles, because he does that, unfortunately for Mitch’s blood pressure. Then he says, “That’s why I’m calling, actually.”

 

“Eichs’ Bitch Face?” Mitch asks surprise.

 

“Indirectly. I am coming back to Toronto in a week and I promised Eichs I would visit him in Buffalo when he had to come up for whatever shit the Sabres have him doing. Do you wanna come with?”

 

Mitch tries to hide his surprise, because him and Matts are friends, even close friends, but they don't plan trips together like Mitch does with Matty.

 

“When?” he asks. He does have commitments too, even if he’s not the third coming of Gretzky or whatever.

 

“In a couple of weeks or so. We could drive down and fill Eichs in together.”

 

“Are you sure Davo doesn't want to do that?” Mitch says. As much as Davo and Eichs can be salty with each other when it comes to the media, they are actually friendly—you don't go through the kind of experiences the 2015 draft class had without bonding.

 

“I mean, I haven’t talked to him about this,” Matts says, “but Stromer doesn't seem to think like it’s going to be a problem. Connor’s busy enough with his teammates right now—those who are in Edmonton.”

 

“Right,” Mitch says, because Davo had told him he wanted to at least talk to Nugent-Hopkins and Eberle, who were in town for different reasons.

 

“So?” Matts insists.

 

“Sure, I am up to it. But we are taking my car and I’m driving.”

 

“We are going to America, Marns,” Matts objects, even if he’s faking it. He loathes driving with the fire of a thousand suns.

 

“I am still driving.”

 

“Fine,” Matts says, pretending to be put upon by Mitch’s perfectly reasonable demands. “We can plan everything when I get back, but I will let Eichs know now, so he knows we are coming.”

 

“Cool. Tell Stromer, though, so we don’t have twenty people doing the same thing. This is harder to coordinate than the NHL schedule.”

 

“They have a computer program for that Marns,” Matts says laughing before hanging up without saying goodbye, like the fucking asshole he is.

 

Mitch definitely needs better friends, not to mention better taste in men.

 

**III.**

 

_Geztlaf, Giroux and Foligno are not the only captains who were involved in the process._

_“It was important to get people to buy into the project,” Crosby stresses, “otherwise it was going to be an exercise in futility. That’s why it took a while. We had to be on the same page, we had to agree to adopt the same guidelines in the locker-room.”_

_Crosby doesn't say it, but considering how long it took, it must not have been easy._

_“I think every person had to come to it on their own terms,” Morgan Rielly, the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs comments. He was one of the first to speak out openly against homophobia, racism and misogyny, together with Crosby, Tavares and Mike Fisher, the captain of the Nashville Predators. Others followed suit relatively quickly, while others still didn't. Yet, according to Rielly, many worked in the background, whether with their teams or in other ways._

_“What people need to understand is that as progressive as hockey culture might look now when compared to even ten years ago, it’s still deeply entrenched in obsolete ideas of what a guy has to be in the locker-room and on ice,” Rielly explains. “It doesn't help that fights are still allowed, and that nothing meaningful was being done to protect minorities. So sure, there were people like me and Sid and Claude who became vocal in public even before we started working on the new document and what not. But there were other captains who did a lot behind the scene. You mentioned Getzlaf, but I can think of many others.”_

_When asked for names, Rielly is very candid, considering the fact that he is well trained at deflecting tricky questions. “It’s not a secret. [Zdeno] Chara worked extremely hard with Marshy [Brad Marchand] in Boston. I mean they collaborated, not that he had to work on Marshy,” Rielly laughs. Indeed, Brad Marchand’s numerous stands, against homophobia especially, are well documented, and he is considered one of the most outspoken and successful ambassadors of the NHL._

_“[Joe] Pavelski and [Anze] Kopitar teamed up in California, where the LGBTQIA community is probably more receptive than in other American states,” Rielly continues, referring to the captains of the San Jose Sharks and the Los Angeles Kings. “They and their teams did a tremendous amount of outreach and got the community involved by asking them what they thought should change in hockey. What must change to bring them to hockey games. Because that was the whole point,” Rielly stresses, “to bring more people closer to hockey, to make hockey accessible to all. And this required a lot of people to work systematically and together.”_

_Rielly also points out that different teams had objectively different issues, in particular depending on their geographical location. “I mean, some areas of Canada and America are perfectly fine with women but not so tolerant of minorities,” he says, although he doesn't want to get into the particulars. “I am hockey player, not a politician,” he jokes, but his point is well taken. As entrenched as certain ideas of masculinity are in the NHL, not to mention in the minor leagues, they are even more so in North America in general—which is where the work on the fans played an important role._

 

**Summer 2017**

 

“Are you guys there yet?” Stromer asks over Bluetooth, because what are you going to use your hard-earned NHL money if not for buying a fancy car? Mitch’s car is admittedly pretty normal, but it has all the gizmos.

 

“Stromer, we left like twenty minutes ago,” Mitch says as he navigates the traffic on the highway just out of Toronto headed south.

 

Dylan sighs. “I really wish we’d come too.”

 

“You mean you’d rather come and visit Eichs than go on vacation with your newly minted boyfriend?” Mitch asks.

 

From the passenger seat, Matts barely contains a laugh. He’s been pretty quiet, besides exchanging “What’s ups” with Stromer.

 

“I was just hoping to come with Davo, and then maybe someone would see him and Eichs together in Buffalo and tongues would start wagging,” Stromer confesses.

 

“ _Tongues would start wagging?_ What the fuck, Stromer? Have you been reading your grandmother historical romances again?”

 

“Fuck off, at least I read,” Dylan dismisses Mitch easily.

 

“Wait a minute,” Matts says, but Dylan is faster.

 

“You don't really wanna go there, Matts,” he says.

 

“He’s right,” Mitch concurs. “Anyways, no, we’re not there yet. Yes, we’ll let you know when we get there. Yes, we’ll even call once we’ve talked to Eichs.”

 

“Alright,” Stromer says. “Davo says hello and goodbye—he doesn't want to talk to you.”

 

“Charming,” Mitch says, and after a “Later, loser,” hangs up.

 

“It took them four years to get together?” Matts asks, eyes wide in mock surprise.

 

“I know, right?” Mitch says turning towards him, although that doesn't last long since he has to switch lanes. “And you weren’t around for three of those years. You should have seen them at the draft. They were vomit-inducing.”

 

“From what I saw, all you three were,” Matts smirks.

 

“Fine, fine. We were the cutest thing ever—Eichs doesn't count because he’s really not that cute. But, seriously, like, they were so hopeless. I had just about given up on them getting their act together.”

 

“Mmm,” Matts says pensively.

 

“What?” Mitch asks. Traffic is easing up a bit now that they’re getting out of Toronto, so he can focus more on Matts and less on driving.

 

“Nothing,” Matts says. “It’s just so weird that I missed so much just because I was born two days too late.”

 

“Dude,” Mitch says, because he’s rather happy about how things worked out, thank you very much.

 

“I know, I know,” Matts says.

 

“No, really, dude. I mean, can you imagine you, Davo _and_ Eichel in the same draft year? It’d been agonizing. Like, the press would have been even more awful than it already was.”

 

“I don't know about that, but Eichs would’ve been a pain in the ass. I mean, for the most part, he’s fine, but when it comes to McDavid it’s like somebody killed all his puppies.”

 

“No shit,” Mitch says, because he was there two years ago. The fabricated tension the sports press put on Connor and Jack two years before had been intense.

 

“Stromer and I kept telling Davo that Eichs had the biggest crush on him, because he used to get all red and constipated-like when the reporters asked him about the great Connor McJesus. I remember the whole thing used to drive Davo mad, but it also embarrassed him like nothing else. At some point he forbade us to talk about it.”

 

“I imagine that request went far,” Matts rolls his eyes.

 

“You know me so well,” Mitch says like a proud papa. “Though we did stop, eventually.”

 

“Davo must have been relieved,” Matts says sarcastically.

 

“You have no idea,” Mitch admits. “Anyway, do you think Eichs is going to be cool with this?”

 

“Absolutely,” Matts says with what Mitch can see is a reassuring smile. “I mean, he’s straight and whatever—unless things changed since the last time we talked about this type of things—but he’s fine with, like …”

 

Matts stops; Mitch can tell he’s trying to find the proper vocabulary, of which all of them have a desperate need, it turns out, because they might be super-progressive, but they have no clue what they’re talking about.

 

“We do need to figure this shit out if we’re going to go around explaining it to people,” Mitch sighs.

 

“Eichs went to college, he’ll deal.”

 

“Right, because that has worked out so well for him.”

 

Matts grins. “So, Eichs is fine with bisexuality and homosexuality and any variations there are, so that’s not gonna be a problem. And he’s gonna be super supportive about the whole misogyny thing—what with his sister and his girlfriend. He loves them both to death, but if he screws up they’ll both tear him a new one, so…”

 

“Cool,” Mitch says, because he wasn't worried—he’s 192 per cent sure Jack had Connor figured out within two seconds of meeting him, and that was never a problem. Still, it’s nice to be reassured by someone who actually talked to him about it.

 

“What about racism?” Mitch says, because Jack grew up in Massachusetts, where minorities are less numerous than in Virginia—Wikipedia has been Mitch’s friend about these little bits of info.

 

“He’s friend with me,” Matts says, and if Mitch had been drinking some of his coffee, it’d now be all over his dashboard.

 

“What the fuck!” he says.

 

Matts plays the innocent card, though not as well as he thinks. “What?” he says, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Jesus, Matts,” Mitch says, because he’s a fucking moron. Just because he’s apparently among the lucky few who don't seem to notice the color of someone’s skin—or their accent, for that matter—it doesn't mean that Matts’ world is all rainbows and puppies.

 

“Chill, Marns,” Matts says, with an insight he usually reserves to hockey. “I haven’t had awful experiences, at least not like some of the African-American players.”

 

“I am so sorry,” Mitch says mortified, because he’s really a terrible friend.

 

“Mitchy,” Matts says sternly, laying his hand on his knee. “Stop it right now.”

 

“But Matts,” Mitch tries again.

 

“No. Absolutely not,” Matts says emphatically. “You’re not going to feel guilty because you don't consider the fact that my mom is Mexican something worth noticing. It’s great you are so cool about it, and, seriously, it’s not been bad.”

 

“Does Babs know?” Mitch asks, because Mitch knows he is Babs’ favorite—everyone does, he’s the cutest shit—but Matts has a special place in Babs’ heart. Everyone and their mother saw the “Good boy, good job” Babs mouthed at the awards at the end of Matts’ acceptance speech.

 

“There is nothing to know,” Matts reassures Mitch, the hand still on Mitch’s knee. “Seriously. It was bad a few years back, but then it stopped. It might start again next year, now that rookie season is over, but nothing has happened. Though I’ll admit I am happy we decided to make it about inclusion and not about homophobia only.”

 

“I get it,” Mitch says. Then, because he’s better than that, he specifies, “I actually don’t, sorry. But I am happy too that we are doing it this way.”

 

They are quiet for a while, Mitch lost in his thoughts about how hockey is awesome, but it can also suck so much. Matts doesn't remove his hand from Mitch’s knee, and Mitch tries not to read too much into it, although he gets that Matts is still intent on reassuring him everything’s alright.

 

After a while, Matts says, “I’m happy I missed the 2015 draft cut-off date, to be honest.”

 

It’s a bit of a non sequitur, although they were discussing it earlier, so Mitch sends Matts a puzzled look.

 

“Well,” Matts clarifies, “I’d gone first—or second, with Davo in the mix one never knows.”

 

“Shut up,” Mitch laughs, “I’m telling him.”

 

“Whatever,” Matts says. “More importantly, you would have ended up _not_ playing for the Leafs, but for the Hurricanes, and, as much as I like Hanny, I really don't see _you_ down in Carolina.”

 

“Gross,” Mitch confirms, because he’s lucky—a Toronto boy playing for the hometown team.

 

“Even more importantly,” Matts concludes, “we’d never been drafted to the same team.”

 

“Oh my god,” Mitch says. “It would have been awesome.”

 

“Fuck off,” Matts says, swatting Mitch on the head.

 

“Careful, we need to get to Buffalo in one piece,” Mitch replies smiling, and Matts huffs, but Mitch can see he’s amused.

 

“Can you imagine, though?” Mitch says. “No four goal debut …”

 

“And no fucking song about it,” Matts adds.

 

“Yeah, that would probably have been a good thing,” Mitch concurs. “But still, it would have been so different. I mean, probably you could have scored four goals with the Sabres or the Oilers, but, you know …”

 

“Probably with the Oilers,” Matts laughs. “I’m not so sure about Buffalo.”

 

“True,” Mitch says, because he’s a Toronto boy with too much loyalty to _his_ team not to be quick at chirping their closest rival. “Still, you’d been fine, you know …”

 

“I get it, Marns,” Matts smiles his kind-of-shy-smile—he’s not really shy, not at all, but it looks that way—and Mitch smiles back like a fucking dork.

 

“However,” Matts continues, because he doesn't quit, like, ever, “you would have looked ridiculous in the Carolina’s colors.”

 

“Fuck off,” Mitch responds, “I can rock red like it’s nobody’s business.”

 

“Thankfully we don't have to put that idea to the test,” Matts says.

 

“Whatever. It would have been better than the Oilers’ jersey.”

 

“Or the Flyers’,” Matts says. “Which reminds me: has anyone said anything about the new class?”

 

“You mean the guys that just got drafted? I don't think so. Why? Do you think we should get in touch with them too? I know Dylan talked to Matty, but that’s, like, a special case.”

 

“Yeah, I know. Stromer told me when we were in Arizona. I guess we should ask Sid what he thinks it’s best.”

 

“My guess,” Mitch muses, “is that it’d be better to let them be right now. I mean, we don't even know who’s gonna make it and who’s gonna be sent back.”

 

“True,” Matts says. That’s something Mitch can see Matts hadn’t thought about—a blind spot of his he shares with people like Davo and Eichs, who made the team immediately and never looked back.

 

“We should still ask, though,” Mitch says. “We’ve already been talking to people, so if we need to contain the info, we better know now.”

 

Matts pulls up his phone and starts typing.

 

“Are you asking him _now_?” Mitch says incredulous, because _fine_ , they’re all suddenly in Sidney Crosby’s phone and his phone number is in theirs, but the whole thing is surreal.

 

“And Davo,” Matts says dickly—is that a real word? Like a dick. Whatever, it’s not like Mitch’s gonna teach English to middle schoolers if this hockey thing doesn't pan out.

 

“You’re such a teacher’s pet,” Mitch mocks him, because it’s true, and also adorable and it makes Mitch’s inside go mushy. Maybe he should talk to Stromer about it. Or maybe he should just ignore it. He’s been doing it for a while.

 

Mitch leaves Matts to his _very important communications with very important people_ and continues driving, thankful for the restful company his friend provides and looking forward to speaking to Jack about it. If he’s lucky, Eichs will be able to get Mitch’s mind away from Auston Matthews for a bit.

 

**IV.**

 

_“Yeah, that was tricky,” Giroux recognizes, “navigating the various issues. I mean, I had conversation with captains who were experiencing situations similar to my own, and we tried to help each other. But certain teams really had their own local problems.”_

_Giroux is certainly used to local problems, and therefore to tough crowds, both his own and his rivals’—especially the Pittsburgh Penguins. “Sid and I laid the groundwork, because we though it’s be crucial to present a united front. We figured, if the fans saw us working together towards a common goal and getting along, and still playing our hearts out on the ice, they too could begin to make a distinction between on-ice and off-ice behavior.” He smiles a bit self-deprecatingly. “You can imagine the two of us butted head a bit at the beginning.”_

_When Crosby is reminded of that, he laughs. “Claude is being very diplomatic.” He is relaxed now, almost three years removed from those hard conversations. “We had screaming matches over the phone and over Skype. I had this grand plan where the two of us would do the bulk of the work. I was so incensed at the time, I often had to be reined in,” he confesses somewhat sheepishly._

_“Claude was more realistic. He said that he was going to do everything in his power to help—and he enlisted his teammates in a heartbeat. He also told me, rightly so, that he wanted to win a cup, preferably in this lifetime and not the next, when he was probably going to come back as a Penguin anyway. By then, the Flyers had drafted Nolan Patrick and the team and the city were very excited after a disappointing season. Claude had a lot on his plate, and I was objectively asking too much of him—of both of us, since we both had teams to captain and there were twenty-nine other teams to work with. He was absolutely right, and I was wrong.” This is not something Sidney Crosby has ever said about a Flyer. “But yes,” he admits, “my ears rang for days afterwards my fights with him.”_

_Giroux is relaxed too, considering the success the Flyers have with Philadelphia and its diverse community. “We are very proud of the work we did in Philly. Wayne [Simmonds] especially was instrumental in bridging the divide between the African-American community and hockey, and between the fans and the African-American community. But what some of the teams did was equally amazing.”_

_Amazing is an apt word and one from which Buffalo Sabres alternate captain Jack Eichel, his good friend Noah Hanafin of the Carolina Hurricanes, and Eichel’s teammate Sam Reinhart shy way from._

_“We did our job, that’s all,” says Eichel with his usual bluntness—which McDavid resolutely refers to as candor and about which he has emphatically asked reporters to stop complaining (That’s a story for another day. Suffice it to say here that when Eichel is reminded of that, he says nothing, but Hanafin and Reinhart are clearly amused. Whatever the story is, it must be pretty good.)_

_Hanafin is a bit more eloquent. “It was Jack who called me. He was really mad and blabbing about ten different things at the same time and he was so worked up that I couldn't get a word edge-wise.”_

_“It’s true,” Reinhart, who was also Eichel’s roommate at the time, confirms. “I was there for the call, and I’ve never seen Jack so mad, which is saying something.” Apparently Jack Eichel has a temper. Alert the media._

_“Shut up,” says Eichel, but he’s serious. This project really means a lot to him._

_“Anyway,” Hanafin continues, “Jack wasn't explaining himself, so finally Sammy passed his phone to Matts [Auston Matthews], who gave me the run down. Right then, however, it wasn't clear what our role would be.”_

_That’s right. Eichel, Hanafin, and Reinhart were among the first one to be ‘recruited’—although Crosby hates the term with a passion. So does Eichel._

_“We weren’t recruited,” he says, “that makes us sound like soldiers going into battle.”_

_The fact is, they kind of were. The three of them, and other players, both young and older, went out to speak with the fans about the themes at the center of the campaign—homophobia in hockey, misogyny in hockey, racism in hockey._

_“It was hard,” Hanafin confesses. “We totally agreed with the message, but I couldn't relate. Many of us couldn't.”_

_“What he means is that most of us are straight white men,” Eichel clarifies bluntly—pardon, candidly. “So of course the outreach programs we contacted looked at us like we were crazy. The fans were more receptive than we expected, but we had to fight a lot of prejudice.”_

_To be fair, Eichel, Reinhart and Hanafin had to please tough crowds. Buffalo and upstate New York in general are blue-collar areas where these ideas are hard to sell. Hanafin, and the rest of the Canes he enlisted for this particular component project, had to deal with the problematic issue of race, which is as divisive in North Carolina as it is in the rest of the south._

_“We had to lend him Kane,” Reinhart jokes, referring to Evander Kane, the Sabres’ left winger who’s spoken against racism in hockey—against the players in particular—on several occasions. At the time, the Canes had no minority player on their roster, something that can be said of a lot of teams still. So Eichel suggested Buffalo sent one of their own._

_When asked why Kane in particular, and not, say, Kyle Okposo, Eichel shakes his head. “We had work to do in Buffalo too,” he says. “And Ev really wanted to go. So he went.”_

**Summer 2017**

 

“Jesus Christ,” Eichs says scrubbing his face with his hands.

 

Mitch is glad to see that he’s finally calming down—he’s no longer purple, more like an interesting shade of coral. For a moment, Mitch thought Jack was going have a heart attack, but Reinhart—“Call me Sammy, everyone does”—had been able to smooth Jack’s feathers while Matts talked to Hanny.

 

“Better?” Sammy asks Jack.

 

Mitch and Matts are sitting on the couch in Eichs’ living room. Eichs is still pacing around like a deranged cat, hair all frizzy and hands in motion. Reinhart is looking at him from one of their chairs, an amused but concerned expression on his face.

 

“Better?” Jack shrieks, and Mitch winces. “Better?” he repeats at a higher tone, like that’s gonna help.

 

“Why aren’t you pissed off?” he asks, staring accusingly towards Mitch and Matts.

 

“Dude,” Mitch says raising his hands, “chill, Christ. We’ve known for a while. We’ve already had time to, like, process. More or less.”

 

Matts nods silently.

 

“How long? And why are you telling me only now? Why didn't Connor call me?”

 

_You see,_ Mitch looks at Matts, raising his eyebrows and hoping Matts gets his telepathic message about how weird the Davo-Eichs situation is. Matts ignores him.

 

“McDavid is on vacation but eagerly awaiting your call,” Matts explains with a smirk. Sammy laughs and so does Mitch, because Jack is frankly ridiculous.

 

“Okay, I’ll talk to him later. You, though,” he says pointing at Matts, “you should have let me know.”

 

“I took care of it,” Matts says, dismissing Jack’s concerns with a wave.

 

“Relax, Eichs, I didn't know either, and I play with him,” Mitch explains, because they need to put the fire out, not feed it gasoline. “It got handled in house and with Crosby until we discovered it wasn't an isolated incident.”

 

“Jesus,” Sammy whistles, and Eichs glares at him, before saying, “You see?”

 

“Chill, bro,” Reinhart says, and he must be used to dealing with a touchy Jack Eichel, because he doesn't look even remotely fazed.

 

Finally, Eichs drops his big ass on the only armchair in the living room, and he passes his hand through his crazy hair for what seems like the tenth time. It only helps making it look even more ridiculous.

 

“You guys are okay, though, right?”

 

“I am fine,” Matts says, “and the last time I saw Davo, he was fine too.”

 

“Just fine?” Eichs prods, because the press gives him a hard time, but Mitch knows he is a great guy. Not like those losers who go around recruiting hapless guys at All Star games.

 

“I mean, I am feeling pretty good,” Matts smirks, “but I bet Davo is doing fantastic right now.”

 

“Didn't you say he’s gone somewhere with Stromer?” Eichs asks Mitch, a frown marring his forehead.

 

“Yep,” Mitch says and waggles his eyebrows because he’s three.

 

It takes, like, half a second for Eichs to process the information.

 

“Oh my God!” he screams, and even Sammy is a bit thrown off.

 

“Oh my God!” he repeats and then he starts dancing around like a fucking moron.

 

Mitch turns towards Matts and mouths “You are friend with this idiot?”

 

“You are too,” Matts mouths back.

 

“I didn't have a choice,” Mitch whispers. “The draft is the draft.”

 

“Neither did I,” Matts defends himself, “the USNDTP takes no prisoners.”

 

All the while, Eichs has been jumping up and down and texting up a storm at the same time.

 

“Mind clueing me in?” Sammy asks Eichs hesitantly.

 

“Be careful not to make the same mistake twice, bro,” Matts warns Jack, referring to how Matts himself came to know about Davo’s sexual preferences because Jack Eichel can’t keep his mouth shut.

 

“Oh, right,” Eichs says, and he resumes texting. “I’ll clear it with McDavid first. Then I’ll explain, Sammy.”

 

Reinhart rolls his eyes, but he’s clearly not bothered. Mitch’s admiration and sympathy for him is growing by the millisecond.

 

“Bottom line,” Jack adds, “these two idiots didn't bring me only bad news. Hanny owes me a hundred bucks.”

 

“Jesus,” Mitch sighs, because _of course_ they bet on it. “Just don't tell Davo. He’s going to strangle you with your skates’ laces.”

 

“Whatever,” Eichs waves, “Davo loves me.”

 

Mitch sighs _again_ , because this is his life.

 

They spend the rest of the night talking about it while eating pizza and drinking beer—thankfully Sammy is a good Canadian guy who likes good Canadian brew, so Mitch doesn't have to keep Eichs and Matts company and drink donkey’s piss with them.

 

At some point, Hanny calls Eichs and they put him on speaker—apparently he doesn't want to feel left out. He’s even pondering coming up from Boston to brainstorm, but they all convince him to stay put. From what Crosby said, something like this is going to take a lot of time and effort on their part, so they might as well chill and relax while they can.

 

Davo apparently gives Eichs permission to tell Sammy and Hanny that him and Stromer are dating, because Jack and Noah spend an inordinately amount of time explaining to Sammy, who’s only met Davo on the ice and Stromer even less often, the great McDavid-Strome saga of 2015. Most of it is made up—Mitch was there, so he knows—but there is enough truth in many of the details that Mitch is disappointed in his two friends for not figuring their shit out a while back. It certainly isn’t an inspiring message for Mitch’s personal life. He doesn't want to, like, fucking pine for two years.

 

Sammy is very cool with it all, or as cool as a twenty-something straight guy can be when confronted with this type of information. He seems happy enough to hear that these two people he doesn't really know are ‘incandescently in love’—this was Hanny, who’s clearly getting his reading recommendations from Stromer.

 

By the time one o’clock rolls around, Mitch is buzzed and exhausted at the same time, and everyone is kind of fading. They are staying at Eichs and Sammy’s, who have a guest-room with a huge bed for when their families and friends come to visit. Mitch and Matts had planned to stick around for only a night, but Jack convinces them to spend the weekend and challenges them to a COD tourney.

 

“Fuck you,” Mitch says. “Everyone knows Matts sucks at that.”

 

“Hey,” Matts says, “I’ve been practicing. And anyway I don't want to play with you.”

 

“That’s right,” Eichs intervenes. “It’s gonna be America vs. Canada.”

 

“Maybe I wanted to play with Reinhart,” Matts suggests.

 

Mitch stifles a yawn before he says to Sammy, “You really don't deserve this, trust me.”

 

Sammy laughs good-naturedly. “Maybe we can take turns. And it’s not like Jack is the resident champion.”

 

Jack’s guest room has an en-suite, thankfully, so Mitch and Matts take turns showering the grime of the day away before getting into bed. It’s not the first time they share a room—sometimes it’s happened on the road, even if they don't room together—and it’s not the first time they share a bed, either. Mitch has the unfortunate habit of falling asleep in the most unlikely situations, and Matts has been his bed and bed companion on numerous occasions.

 

It might not be the first time, but it’s the first time since this whole thing has begun and since Mitch has started to take a closer look at his feelings. So he’s a bit awkward and a bit nervous, fidgeting around while trying to find a position he can fall asleep in. Matts is his usual dead opossum self: he doesn't move, he doesn't twitch and if it weren’t for the fact that he can see his eyes are open, Mitch would think he’s fallen asleep before touching the pillow.

 

“You good?” Mitch asks, even if he’s the one who’s unable to keep still.

 

“Yeah,” Matts says. “Just thinking about today, you know?” he adds, turning to face Mitch. Mitch does the same—it’s only polite—and they are very close. It’s like every rom-com cliché all wrapped into this bed in Jack Eichel’s condo.

 

Mitch nods. “It’s pretty cool, though. So far, everyone we’ve talked about has been chill.”

 

“We are doing the easy ones first,” Matts says, because he’s like Stromer in this. The glass tends to be only half full with him.

 

“We’re probably only gonna do the easy ones, I think,” Mitch comments. “I assume Sid and the other captains are going to talk to Kesler and Kane.”

 

“Right,” Matts says, and he seems sad all of a sudden.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mitch asks, because his Matthews Radar is very tuned into Matts’ change of mood.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“It’s something, don't lie.”

 

“It’s really fine,” Matts insists, but Mitch knows him too well by now.

 

“Matts, please. Don't bottle things up. We’ve gotta to work together here,” Mitch pleads—he’s not whining, tough. Just pushing it a bit.

 

“It just really sucked, you know,” Matts finally says.

 

Mitch thinks about what it could be for a moment.

 

“You mean with Patrick Kane,” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” Matts confirms, snuggling into his pillow and closing his eyes briefly.

 

“It was out of nowhere and I’ve been so looking forward to meeting him. I mean, I know he’s had shitty press and some of the things he’s been accused of are horrible, but …”

 

“But …?” Mitch asks, because he really, really, really doesn't want to be half in love with someone who so readily excuses frankly inexcusable behavior. Granted, Mitch is not American, and maybe he’d feel different if these were things Crosby had been accused of, but he hopes not.

 

“I guess it’s easier to justify things when they don't touch you directly, you know?” Matts says, and Mitch breathes a bit more easily. “I mean, some of the stuff that happened was maybe not so bad, and whatever spin was given at the time, I maybe bought. The whole disaster here in Buffalo two years ago, that I really didn't want to think about. But then, he comes up and spouts all this shit and I thought to myself: you really are a remarkable turd of a human being.”

 

Mitch giggles, because he can’t not. Matts doesn't speak like this about other people—Ema Matthews is awesome and sweet and kind, but she’s also terrifying, Mitch has met her. She raised Matts well. So it’s really funny to hear Matts say something like that, besides being kind of true. Luckily, Matts knows him well enough to realize Mitch is laughing at the words and not at the experience Matts had.

 

“Sorry,” Mitch says anyway when he sees Matts raising his eyebrows.

 

“No, it’s fine. It’s quite the image,” Matts smiles. Then he says somberly, “but it was really shitty.”

 

“You wanna tell me about it?” Mitch asks, because he wants to be here for his friend.

 

“Maybe someday,” Matts answers. “Talking to Sid and then Davo really helped, but it’s not something I want to revisit too often, you know,” he adds almost apologetic.

 

“Whatever you need, dude,” Mitch says with a smile.

 

“Thanks Marns,” Matts says, snuggling even more into his pillow and light blanket—because thanks the hockey gods Jack and Sammy don't spare expenses when it come to air-conditioning in the middle of the summer.

 

“Go to sleep, dude. Babs is gonna kill you if you get back from off-season with bags under your eyes.”

 

“‘Night Mitchy,” Matts says.

 

“‘Night Auston.”

 

**IV.**

 

_When asked about it, Evander Kane shrugs. “I needed to learn, you know,” he says. “I am not ashamed of saying that. I am ashamed that someone had to point out that I was behaving unprofessionally and that I was hurting people, but I learned.”_

_He is clearly equally uncomfortable with and proud of what has happened and what he’s accomplished. “It was insane, when Jack [Eichel] told me about it, but the whole homophobic thing, I have to admit I didn't get it. I remember Jack looked at me like I was coming from Mars and asked me, point blank: how is this different from what you have been going through? I spent half an hour explaining to him what it means to be a black man in the league and he went quiet. Then he disappeared for two days and I thought that was the end of it.” Kane laughs. “I should’ve known better. So he comes back with like two pages of bullet points, type-written, and for every thing I had told him I had to endure, he had a similar situation from someone who, Jack told me, was a bisexual player in the league. That was eye-opening.”_

_We ask him to elaborate. “I think that the thing that struck me the most was the profound sense of isolation me and this person shared, you know. I mean, when you grow up hearing that what you are is less, that it is wrong—whether it is because of your race, your gender or your sexuality—that eats you away, bit by bit. And we shared that. In the end, we talked, this person and me, and it was really interesting, because we had analogous experiences, but also very different ones. I could never hide my race, you see. And that is a blessing. But him, and the other gay and bi players—all the gay and bi people—they can if they choose to. But the price they pay…” Kane pauses, his eyes looking in the distance. “It was really eye-opening.”_

_Evander Kane is not the only player who admits to having some difficulties in buying into this all-consuming project._

_“Yep, that was me,” Ryan Kesler, one of the alternate captains of the Anaheim Ducks, confesses. His new video makes this very clear, and he’s received very positive feedback across the league for his mea culpa. “I was an ass. Can you print that? Well, anyway, that’s what I was. I was a dumb white straight man who didn't know any better and who made some questionable choices.”_

_He doesn't want to elaborate. “It’s not about me, you know, or how I screwed up. It’s about all of us and how we are trying to fix it. But I can tell you that it wasn't pretty. I apologized to a lot of people—a lot. And I had to do a lot of soul-searching. It was a humbling experience, especially when you’re taught by people ten years younger than you are or more.”_

_This is the problem Crosby referred to: how the younger guys, age twenty-five and below—the so-called Millennials—were much more open to collaborating to improve all players’ working conditions than their veteran colleagues._

_“They always tell us to lead by example in the locker-room,” Travis Zajac, Alternate Captain of the New Jersey Devils, explains. “That you are older, and wiser and more mature. What came out of this was that we can all learn from each other, and that in this particular case, the rookies and the other young guys were a step ahead to all of us.”_

_Among the young Devils Zajac is not so obliquely referring to Taylor Hall, Beau Bennett and Nico Hischier have been the most visible._

 

**Summer 2017**

Mitch wakes up with Matts plastered against his back, because of course he does. Matts is a furnace, he’s heavy and he’s hard, and Mitch’s life is a worst soap opera than Stromer’s, which is saying something.

 

“Matts, get off,” he murmurs. He doesn't know what time it is, but he’s still tired and he wants to sleep some more, and Matts on his back is not gonna help.

 

“Shut up, Mitchy,” Matts says, snuggling even more in Mitch’s body.

 

“Come on, Matts, you’re heavy,” Mitch insists, but it’s like moving a mountain.

 

“Stop moving,” Matts complaints, hardening the grip he has on Mitch’s waist and burying his nose in Mitch’s hair.

 

“It’s not very comfy,” Mitch makes a last ditch effort.

 

“You are very comfy,” Matts says, like that makes any sense, “now shut up and go back to sleep.”

 

Mitch tries. He tries really, really hard, but Matts is like an octopus and is not letting go of him. Sleep is elusive considering the situation. He lays still, however, unwilling to disturb Matts when the guy always looks like he could use another ten hours of sleep. Everyone on the team makes fun of him for the bags under his eyes, which have gone away only a month after the season ended. Mitch is afraid they’re going be a regular occurrence as long as Matts plays professionally.

 

Since he cannot sleep, tucked in Matts’ body as he is, Mitch lets his mind wander. He ponders the most recent updates from Davo about the guys in Edmonton and from Sid who, despite being a notorious technophobe, is actually pretty good at texting—though he had to be explained how to create a group chat that included him, Davo, Stromer, Matts, Mitch, Mo and a few other people. The group chat gets new members every day, and the hope is that, sometimes in the near future, it’ll have most of the current NHL rosters in it.

 

He also thinks about Auston, because how can he not? They’ve been spending quite a bit of time with each other since he came back from Arizona. Doing touristy stuff in Toronto in the summer is nearly impossible—it’s hotter than fuck and they are both too famous not to be stopped every other minute now that it’s off-season and everyone misses hockey like crazy. Still, they’ve been training and getting some ice time, which is nice.

 

Mitch has tons of friends in the GTA, but there’s something special about skating with Matts. He doesn't get to do it often during the season, since they are not on the same line. Besides their regular practices, of course, when on occasion Babs will put them together to shake things up a bit. So Mitch is enjoying skating with Matts, just the two of them.

 

It’s good, this close friendship they have. For all that they are so different from one another, they get each other on a level that Mitch has only experienced with people he’s known for years, not for months. It does help that Mitch gets along with pretty much everyone—he was able to forge a very strong friendship with Stromer after they’d been mortal enemies for years. Still, Mitch likes to think him and Matts complement each other nicely.

 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Matts asks in Mitch’s neck, sending a shiver down Mitch’s spine.

 

Taken by surprise, Mitch answers honestly. “You.”

 

Matts is silent for a long moment, before tightening his grip on Mitch even more.

 

“Are we doing this now?” he says.

 

“Doing what?” Mitch replies, because he wasn't really planning on doing anything any time soon.

 

“Mitchy,” Matts grumbles, and he manhandles Mitch so that they are facing each other instead of spooning.

 

Mitch looks at Matts, who is staring back at him. He looks awful, quite frankly, because nobody looks good as soon as they get up. His eyes are puffy with sleep, his hair is a mess and his face is partially marred by pillow creases. Mitch imagines he’s not any better—mornings are not his strong suit.

 

Matts’ hand, which had been wrapped around Mitch’s waist, is now holding Mitch’s nape. Mitch doesn't quite know what to do with his own hands, because Matts might have a plan, but he hasn't clued Mitch in, and Mitch doesn't know what’s allowed. Eventually, he brings both hands before him, not allowing them to touch Matts just yet.

 

Matts stares at him with dark eyes and Mitch stares back, waiting for his next move. His heart is in his throat, even if it looks like him and Matts might be on the same page after all.

 

“I am waiting,” Matts says, breaking the silence.

 

“ _You_ are waiting?” Mitch asks peevishly, because he would have been content just lying in bed for another hour instead of dealing with _feelings._

“You are the one who said you were thinking about me,” Matts specifies, as if using _logic_ is something he does every day, the fucker.

 

“You are everywhere. What else am I gonna think about?” Mitch defends himself, because it’s true. His senses are filled with Auston: his body has been surrounding him all night, his cute noises right in Mitch’s ears.

 

Matts is not a person who blushes often—he might be nineteen, but he’s self-assured. Sometimes, though, it happens, especially when he’s taken by surprise. It’s well documented in some of the interviews he’s had to give. His complexion hides most of his embarrassment as a matter of course. Still, Mitch is too close now, so he has a front row view to the flush that covers Matts’ cheeks and forehead—he does do embarrassed much more graciously than Eichs ever will.

 

“I am sorry?” Matts says tentatively, and it comes out as a question.

 

“Don't be, I wasn't complaining,” Mitch replies, because apparently they _are_ doing this now. “Though I’d like to be brought into the game plan, since there is one.”

 

Matts rolls his eyes.

 

“Don't do that,” Mitch whines, “it’s not very nice.”

 

“You do it all the time,” Matts objects.

 

“I am cute, I can get away with it,” Mitch explains, because that’s what Matty has said back in January.

 

Matts rolls his eyes again. “Just because you are Matty’s favorite doesn't mean he’s right about things.”

 

“I am everybody’s favorite,” Mitch points out.

 

“You are everybody’s something,” Matts chirps, and it’s weak, so Mitch lets it go.

 

“So,” he says instead, “game plan?”

 

Matts is still holding Mitch’s nape, but he moves his hand to caress Mitch’s cheekbones, which are not as pronounced as Matts’, and Mitch’s nose.

 

Mitch wets his lips with his tongue and Matts’ eyes zero into the action.

 

“I don't really have one,” Matts confesses, still caressing Mitch’s face. “More of a game hope. Hope plan?”

 

“You always have a plan,” Mitch says, because Matts does like to plan things. To be fair, they are usually hockey-related things—it’s what makes him such a good player—but it often extends to the rest of his life.

 

“You are a bit unpredictable, Mitchy,” Matts says with a smile.

 

“You thought I wouldn't want this? That I wouldn't want _you_?” Mitch asks incredulous.

 

“I mean, I wasn't sure?” Matts answers hesitantly.

 

Mitch scowls because Matts’ hockey IQ clearly doesn't translate into real life.

 

“Come on, you are cuddly and giggly with everyone. How am I supposed to know I’m special?”

 

“Cuddly and giggly,” Mitch repeats. “You make me sound like a puppy or something.”

 

“I can think of at least three people who’d back me up on this, and one of them is in this apartment,” Matts grins.

 

“Fine, whatever,” Mitch says, because he doesn't want to piss Matts off before they get to their first kiss, which hasn't happened yet, and Mitch doesn't understand why.

 

“So on with the game hope, then?” Mitch says, and Matts nods resolutely and finally, _fucking finally,_ leans in.

 

**V.**

 

_“We kind of feel into it, to be completely honest” Taylor Hall, also an alternate captain of the Devils, explains. We are talking to him after practice, and he’s joined by his two teammates, Beau Bennett and Nico Hischier. “I mean, we absolutely supported what Sid was proposing we should do, but it was completely random that the three of us became so central to the Devils’ work.”_

_“I remember those days well,” Beau Bennett laughs. “We’d just drafted Nico [Hischier] first overall and when we got to training camp, there was this new energy on the team. We were buzzing with excitement and really looking forward to the new season. Then I got a phone call from Sid.” Bennett and Crosby had been teammates on the Penguins, had won a cup together, and they’d kept in touch._

_“It’s kind of hard not to stay in touch with Sunshine,” Crosby confesses with a smile. “He doesn't really let you forget about him.”_

_For Hall, the call came from McDavid, with whom he’d played in Edmonton._

_“Davo texted me first, and asked me if I had some time to talk. We were in the middle of training and very busy—both of us—so I immediately realized it was serious. He told me what was happening,” Hall explains. A frown mars his features, so whatever was happening, it’s not a happy memory. “The world kind of tilted.”_

_“For both of us, actually,” Bennett confirms. The two of them are clearly very at ease with each other, and Hischier looks at them fondly. It is a well-known fact that Hall took him under his wing when he got to Newark, exactly like he had done with McDavid in Edmonton two years before._

_“What can I say? I like to mentor first overall picks,” Hall jokes._

_“He’s very good at it,” Hischier confirms._

_So: Bennett and Hall got ‘recruited’ too, and Hischier was dragged into it during his rookie year._

_“I stumbled on it,” Hischier says ruefully. “I overheard them talking about something mysterious in the middle of November. I’d realized they were up to something, because I’d caught them discussing things and then going quiet when I approached them. I thought there was something wrong with the way I was playing. The only way for them to convince me that it was not true was to tell me the truth.”_

_“He was relentless, on and off the ice,” Hall admits. “Still, we hadn’t planned to involve any of the rookies, you see. We didn't want to add to the stress that comes with playing your first NHL season.”_

_“It was totally fine, actually,” Hischier states. It looks like this has been a conversation they’ve had often. Bennett smiles, so he must have witnessed the exchange often._

_The three Devils feature in individual ads, which are really the culmination of the work they began during the 2017-2018 season. In them, they speak in strong terms against misogyny in hockey—like they’ve done in interviews, to fans and junior players before. They all call out on misogynist chirps used on the ice. But more importantly, they vehemently condemn the behavior of teenage hockey players who have notoriously abused of their position in school halls across North America._

_“Part of the strategy we adopted had a strong foundation in education,” Hall explains. “Patrick [Burke] was very adamant about this. For me, this meant reaching the players while they were still playing in juniors. I’d gone through the system as well, and I knew how some people behaved. It was something I was confortable doing it, so I decided to do that.”_

_Hall, Bennett and Hischier’s painstaking work has only rarely been documented by the media. The reasons are multi-faceted: junior hockey is not mainstream news, and there is little interest in it; further, nobody wanted this pseudo grass-root movement to attract attention._

_“It was not about shaming players or forcing young men and women to relive traumas and abuse on local or national television,” Bennett says. “It was about changing hockey culture from the bottom up. We figured if they heard from NHLers that this type of behavior would no longer be tolerated—that it would be taken into account at the draft and in the future—we could get somewhere.”_

_When asked how far they went, it’s Hischier who answers. “It’s a slow process, but we have it in place now. So there are no more excuses—for the scouts, the teams, the agents and the players.”_

**Summer 2017**

Auston Matthews kisses like he plays—with laser-eye focus and complete dedication. It’s an addicting experience, one that Mitch hopes he doesn’t have to give up too soon.

 

Auston Matthews also has four inches and fifty pounds on Mitch. And Mitch has never particularly enjoyed the fact that he’s on the small end of the spectrum for a hockey player, but right now, he can’t think of anything better. Matts envelops him completely once he moves to lie on top of Mitch. He’s warm and soft and careful—because Auston Matthews has always been careful around Mitch. But he’s also aggressive in his kisses and is not afraid to go after what he wants, trusting Mitch to stop him if it’s too much.

 

Mitch doesn't know how long they lie there, on Jack Eichel and Sammy Reinhart’s guestroom bed, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies. There is a certain languor in their movements, like they know they have all the time in the world and they don't want to rush it. It’s really an unusual state of affairs for Mitch, who tends to jump into things and live life like tomorrow’s never coming. But he wants to enjoy this, the warm coziness of kissing Matts in a bed not theirs, in a house not theirs, in a city not theirs. So far away from Toronto, where the pressure of being tasked with revitalizing an Original Six Franchise can be crushing.

 

Auston seems to be on board with slow and patient. The only change he makes, after a while, is by dragging Mitch on top of him—which Mitch suspects might have something to do with wanting to be pressed against each other rather than with a strain on Matts’ muscles. They stay there, lost in a haze of _them_ , for a long time.

 

It’s only with a series of knocks on their bedroom door that they’re brought back to the present.

 

“You losers up?” Eichs’ voice comes loud and clear. The guy’s way too cheerful for this early in the morning.

 

“We are now,” Auston grumbles, hiding his face in Mitch’s neck and biting it softly.

 

“What was that?” Eichs says, and luckily he has the decency not to come in.

 

“Yes, we are,” Mitch responds.

 

“Are you decent? Can we come in?” Eichs demands, rather than asks.

 

Mitch and Auston look each other over and after nodding, Mitch says, “As long as you’re decent too, Eichs. I know how you like to go around naked first thing in the morning.”

 

Eichs bursts into the room yelling, “Lies! It happened only once, and Hanny promised not to tell you.”

 

“He didn't promise not to tell Stromer, though,” Mitch smirks, accepting the cup of steaming coffee Sammy offers him with a grateful nod.

 

Eichs has one for Matts—who would live on caffeine only, if the nutritionists let him.

 

“I don't wanna know,” Matts says, inhaling his coffee.

 

Eichs sprawls on the bed near Matts’ feet and Mitch makes some room for Sammy.

 

“What is this, a cuddle pile? Did you miss me so much, Eichs?” Mitch asks mockingly.

 

“Shut up,” Eichs says waving his hand. He’s still in his nightclothes—a t-shirt and some shorts—and so is Sammy. They must have gotten up not too long ago, because they clearly haven’t showered or gotten ready for the day.

 

“What time is it?” Matts asks.

 

“Almost noon, Sleeping Beauties,” Eichs responds. “I’ve tried to get in touch with Davo and Stromer and I’ve also called Hanny again.”

 

“This time I didn't have to intervene,” Sammy interjects.

 

“Whatever,” Eichs grumbles. “So now I have a ton of additional questions and there is no food in the house. Do you guys wanna do brunch?”

 

Mitch and Matts look at each other again and then nod.

 

“Sure,” Mitch answers for both of them. “Though we shouldn't probably talk about this in public.”

 

Eichs thinks about it for a second.

 

“Good point,” he agrees. “We’ll go eat and then come back here and I can ask my questions while I destroy you at COD.”

 

Matts scowls, but Mitch laughs.

 

“You wish,” he says. “Now let us get ready and you can take us somewhere nice.”

 

Sammy and Eichs go to get ready, leaving Mitch and Auston alone.

 

“You good?” Matts asks him, and Mitch smiles at him.

 

“I am excellent,” he says. “You?”

 

Auston leans in and drops a kiss on Mitch’s nose, of all places.

 

“Me too.”

 

Brunch is good and so is the whole weekend. Mitch knew from the draft that Eichs was a solid guy—one just has to learn how to handle him. They talk a lot, the four of them, about what they’d like to do, and how they’d like to help, over the few days Mitch and Auston spend in Buffalo.

 

Sometimes Hanny Skypes in, because even if it’s been two years, he’s still as codependent on Eichs as Eichs is on him. Reinhart observes them with an amused light in his eyes, like he’s on a joke no one else can understand.

 

Davo and Stromer put a moratorium on calling them, because, as Stromer puts it, “We are on a fucking vacation, you assholes, and we’d like to actually spend time together, without the five of you.”

 

Eichs stops bothering them only once he gets some one-on-one time with Connor, which Stromer reluctantly allows. Mitch _knows_ Dylan has nothing to be jealous about, like, absolutely nothing—Eichs is straight and Davo is Dylan’s. Still, Connor and Jack have always had a strange rapport. Mitch has often wondered if it’s connected to going first and second.

 

“Can’t help you there, buddy,” Sammy says when Mitch voices his thought while they’re waiting for Eichs to finish his debrief with Davo. “Eks and I are not like them at all.”

 

Mitch turns to Matts, who shrugs. “Don't look at me,” he says. “I rarely speak to Patrik. He’s cool and all, but we never got particularly close.”

 

Mitch lets it go, because it just might be a Davo-Eichs thing, and he doesn't want to get in the middle of it.

 

When they’re not with Eichs and Sammy, Mitch and Auston are usually in each other’s company. They don't sleep much—what between COD tourneys and late night talks.

 

They talk a lot over that weekend, when Eichs is not around to overhear them—Sammy is too cool to even begin to mock them, but Eichs is merciless about these things. They’re lucky he hasn't gotten wind of what is happening between them yet.

 

They talk a lot and Mitch likes that. He likes that Auston opens up even more than he has had thus far. He still doesn't tell Mitch about Los Angeles and his painful encounter with Patrick Kane, but he tells him plenty. About growing up in the south, about his family and the tattoo he got for them in June, about learning to play hockey in Arizona and deciding to go to Switzerland for a year. He tells Mitch about growing up Latino _and_ bisexual in a state where you can get stopped by the police because of the color of your skin. He tells Mitch about realizing how good he was at hockey, and how difficult _who_ he’s as an individual could be to reconcile with his chosen profession.

 

Mitch soaks it all in, deep into the night, with Auston snuggled on his shoulder—because he’s a secret cuddling monster. He listens to everything Auston has to say, and to what Auston _doesn't_ say, and he holds him closer, because hockey is the best thing that ever happened to Mitch, but he’s realizing this sport he loves so much can be a cruel mistress for many of the people he knows. Some of the stories Auston tells him make Mitch cringe.

 

Mitch has had it easy in comparison. The most difficult thing for him to do when he was playing with the London Knights was living in the shadow of Connor McDavid and Dylan Strome, and Mitch thinks he managed just fine. Sure, his dad pushed him a lot—some would say too much—but it paid off. And sure, when Mitch realized that he liked guys—sometimes—he freaked out a bit. Yet, he’s always preferred girls, so he’d figured he’d stick to them. Auston is the first man he’s met that’s made him reconsider his decision. He’s not sorry, not at all, he reassures Auston when he tells him that. It’s just that he’s been lucky.

 

The funny thing is, Auston considers himself lucky too.

 

“My parents worked hard to give me every opportunity they could to allow me to get better, you know,” he says on the last night they spend at Eichs and Sammy’s. “They could have just say ‘Forget it, focus on studying and going to college’ but they didn't. I was lucky.”

 

Mitch thinks he’s the lucky one. But then, maybe they both are.

 

**VI.**

_If Hall, Bennett and Hischier were the first to actively get involved with junior hockey to fight misogyny, they weren’t the only one. Other players on other teams followed suit._

_“Homophobia, misogyny and racism were the big three we wanted to tackle,” Crosby says. “They weren’t the only problems. They aren’t the only problems,” he corrects himself, demonstrating the work-in-progress nature of the whole process. “Still, the fact that there were different angles we wanted to cover allowed people some choice.”_

_“Some players were clearly uncomfortable discussing issues of gender and sexuality,” Burke explains. “Not that I blame them,” he is quick to clarify. “Most of them had no frame of reference, even if many admitted to knowing or being friends with one or more members of the LGBTQIA community.”_

_“It wasn't easy,” says Henrik Lundqvist, the goaltender of the New York Ranger, whose dedication and commitment to community service are well documented. “We lacked not only the context and the vocabulary but, more importantly, most of us lacked the experience. We didn't know what it means to be gay or bi or transgender in the NHL. I certainly didn't.”_

_“Yeah, that part was hard,” James van Riemsdyk of the Toronto Maple Leafs remembers. “But we were dealing with a series of logistical and practical problems and we wanted the conversation to be open to everyone.”_

_Van Riemsdyk is referring to the lack of openly gay, bisexual, and asexual players in the league. Indeed, many of the sports commentators critical of the whole endeavor have repeatedly asked why, if fighting homophobia is so important, no player has come out yet._

_“It’s not about that,” Crosby explains. “This was never about that, about creating a stage for current players to come out. It was about making all people understand that if you can play hockey, now you really can.”_

_“It’s true,” McDavid confirms. “The great thing is that I now honestly believe a player has the possibility of coming out, something that three years ago would have been harder. But it wasn't about that—that’s a consequence, and when these players are ready, they will come out.”_

_That meant, of course, that people who openly identify themselves as straight had to openly speak against homophobia._

_“We started with YCP,” Crosby reminisces. “We went through the list of players who’d endorse Patrick’s organization and contacted them. Hank and James are just two of the many who accepted to take on the challenge.”_

_They weren’t the only ones and they were joined, seemingly in short order, by players such as Mitch Marner and Auston Matthews, Jordan Eberle of the New York Islanders, Andrew Shaw of the Montreal Canadiens, Steven Stamkos, the captain of the Tampa Bay Lightning, and Trevor van Riemsdyk of the Carolina Hurricanes._

_“My brother and Hanny [Noah Hanafin] like to say they dragged me into this, but I was just so happy to do it,” Trevor van Riemsdyk laughs. “It was all hands on deck, you see.”_

_Shaw, on the other hand, is one of the many who was contacted by Crosby._

_“He’d read my interview with Chris Hine of the Chicago Tribune,” Shaw recalls, “and he thought I’d be great for what he had in mind.”_

_Shaw was notoriously suspended and fined in April 2016 after using a homophobic slur against one of the game officials during the Chicago Blackhawk vs. St. Louis Blues series. The whole episode left a bitter taste in many commentators’ mouth, and Shaw, a well-known agitator on the ice, drew additional criticism when he volunteered to be the LGBTQIA ambassador for the Montreal Canadiens._

_“Sid didn't care about that,” Shaw explains. “He only cared that I meant what I’d said in the interviews and that I was willing to work hard to make the NHL a better place for LGBTQIA players.”_

_Despite the overwhelmingly warm support Crosby got from many players in the NHL, things didn't exactly run smoothly._

_“It was really a bit of a disaster, at the beginning,” Stamkos recalls. “We asked experts to come in and talk to us about how to address these issues with other people. All of a sudden we got lectures about white masculinity and gender dysphoria and we realized we were completely unprepared.”_

_“Yeah, that was really tricky,” Auston Matthews agrees. With his teammates Mitch Marner and Matt Martin, he’s been the most outspoken about the need to eradicate homophobia in hockey._

_“It wasn't tricky, it was a nightmare,” Marner says with his usual exuberance. “I didn't even know how to pronounce some of the words they gave us pamphlets about. It was ridiculous. I felt so inadequate, you know. It was so important that we got it right, but we were so awfully unprepared.”_

_“Mitchy’s always likes to exaggerate,” Dylan Strome, who also played a central role in the players’ message against homophobia, smirks. He’s known Marner for almost a decade, so he’s probably right. “In retrospect, it was hard, but also funny. We were overwhelmed, but willing to put in the hours. Wikipedia became our best friend. The important thing, however, was that we got the help we needed.”_

_“Our team was behind us one hundred percent,” Martin says. “Lou and Shanny gave us their unconditional support when we went to talk to them about what we wanted to do.”_

_Martin is referring to Brandon Shanahan, president and alternate governor for the Toronto Maple Leafs, and Lou Lamoriello, its GM._

_“It helped that a few months before, we’d filmed the Men of Quality video,” Martin adds, “so we knew we’d find a receptive audience.”_

_“It was kind of similar—only on a bigger scale,” Marner concludes._

_Bigger scale is somewhat a euphemism and Shanahan laughs when he hears it._

_“That’s Mitch for you,” he says with a tremendous amount of pride in his eyes. “But ultimately he was correct. We though the timing was right,” Shanahan continues. “We had this cohort of young men who believed in what we’d attempted to do with the video coming to us to say they wanted to do more, much more. We were all absolutely delighted and humbled to be able to help them along the way.”_

**Summer 2017**

 

If July is a blur for Mitch, August passes even faster. Things heat up on all fronts for everyone. Training camp is approaching at a fast pace, and Mitch is even busier than he was earlier in the summer. August always made him feel a bit nostalgic, because summer is drawing to a close when there are still so many things to do. This year is no different, but it’s connected with the closeness he’s developed with several of the people Connor and Sidney put him—them, it’s really Marns and Matts—in touch with.

 

In the several weeks since the phone call they had with Sid, Mitch, Matts, Davo and Stromer have been able to reach out to most of their friends from juniors, from the draft and from their teams. Everyone Mitch has talked to has been very supportive and willing to work hard to ensure these preliminary efforts don't go wasted.

 

In addition, now Mitch has Patrick Burke’s number in his phone, besides that of random hockey players he’s never even met. One day he gets a text from Marc-Andre Fleury in French, which Mitch doesn't speak. He has to run it through Google Translate to get its meaning, and then, in revenge, runs his English response too, and sends it back in Slovakian. Him and Flower have been exchanging prank suggestions ever since.

 

“I can't believe you’re friends with a Golden Knight,” Stromer mocks him from his place on the floor of Mitch’s Toronto condo. He’s gotten there a few hours ago, and he’s going to stick around until he has to leave for camp in a few of days. Auston and Connor are supposed to join them—Mitch has the space, even if both Matts and Davo have houses in Toronto. It’s supposed to be the last hurrah before hockey begins and their lives get even crazier than they already are.

 

“I was a London Knight, so it makes sense,” Mitch responds while texting Auston to stop and get some food. Mitch’s got nothing in his pantry besides Skittles and Pop-Tarts and Davo’s gonna flip if he doesn't eat real food, like, every three hours.

 

“Plus,” he adds, “you’ve become pen-pal with Ryan Nugent-Hopkins.”

 

“Yeah,” Stromer says, “that surprised me too, to be honest. But he’s a cool dude.”

 

“I mean, he puts up with Davo, so he must know what he’s doing,” Mitch smirks.

 

Stromer throws one of his shoes at him, which Marns ducks with ease, because he’s a fucking pro-athlete, what the fuck. The whole thing devolves in a wresting match that creates havoc all over Mitch’s living room. They are so engrossed in kicking each other with pillows that neither of them hears Matts and Davo coming in.

 

“Should we come back later?” Matts asks ironically as he goes to drop groceries in Mitch’s kitchen.

 

“Davo,” Stromer screams, and he jumps up to hug his boyfriend like he didn't see him just this morning. Davo lets himself be engulfed in Dylan’s arms like the besotted idiot he is, so Mitch decides to go cuddle his own boyfriend, since he can.

 

Auston is putting stuff in the fridge when Mitch gets to the kitchen.

 

“Thanks, man,” Mitch says hugging Matts from behind.

 

Matts turns and drops a kiss on Mitch’s head.

 

“God forbid Davo should go hungry,” Matts jokes and Mitch lifts his face to get a proper kiss, because he too might have seen his boyfriend just this morning, but whatever. They’re still in the honeymoon phase.

 

“Wow, guys, warn a dude,” Stromer shrieks from the living room door.

 

_Right_ , Mitch thinks. Him and Auston still haven’t gotten around telling Davo and Stromer about their new relationship status.

 

Matts rolls his eyes, because after that week in Arizona, he’s completely vaccinated against Stromer’s antics. Stromer rolls his eyes back, like it’s some sort of competition, but gets into the kitchen to help Matts unloading the grocery bags.

 

Davo smiles at Mitch from behind Stromer and Mitch wags his eyebrows.

 

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Marns?” Davo asks coming in to bro-hug him.

 

“Why, do you need lessons, Davo?” Mitch smirks, and Matts and Stromer burst out laughing.

 

“Fuck off,” Davo responds blushing like the loser he is.

 

Mitch smiles blindingly before winking in an effort to embarrass Davo even more.

 

“Does this mean we can double-date?” Stromer asks sitting his fat ass on Mitch’s kitchen counter.

 

“I’d never show my face in public with you. Especially when you still have traces of that awful dye job,” Mitch says.

 

“Don't front it, Marns,” Dylan responds. “You wish you’d rock it like I do.”

 

“Dream on, Stromer,” Mitch says, setting to help Auston with the groceries.

 

“You guys are very domestic. It’s cute,” Davo comments after sitting at the table.

 

“That’s us,” Mitch says, “the next generation Martha Stewarts.”

 

“If that’s what you want to be when you grow up, we’ll support you, Marns,” Davo chirps.

 

Matts finishes his ‘domestic’ activities and sits at the table too, crossing his arms. He has yet to say anything, but there is an amused smile on his mouth. Mitch goes to sit on his lap, because he fucking can. It’s his kitchen.

 

Stromer smirks and take a seat at the table too.

 

“If we’re all sitting down, who’s gonna cook?” Davo asks.

 

“It’s not gonna be me, that’s for sure,” Mitch says cuddling into Matts, who lets him, because Mitch has the best boyfriend ever.

 

“We should just order in,” Stromer suggests. “This will leave you guys free time to explain how, when, and why this happened,” he gestured at the two of them.

 

“Fine with me,” Mitch says. Matts shrugs and nods and Davo pulls out his phone and after some argument, they all settle for Thai, because it’s still summer, but fun times and screwing with the diet plan are almost over.

 

Because they are young and dumb, they set up in the living room, and not in the kitchen like grown-ups allegedly do—Mitch has seen how Mo and Gards eat, so he’s not convinced about that yet.

 

“So, are you going to explain?” Dylan asks, because he never met a love-story he didn't want to stick his nose into.

 

“I mean, we are together?” Mitch says, and he doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, so he turns to Auston, who’s still smiling. They’re sitting together on Mitch’s sectional, while Dylan and Davo are on the loveseat.

 

“We kind of figured,” Davo says gently, “and you don't need to tell us anything at all. Don't listen to this idiot.” He’s addressing Mitch, but he’s looking at Auston like he’s trying to communicate with him telepathically. Mitch wonders if this is another of those first overall pick things he’s sure are going on behind the scenes.

 

“It’s fine,” Auston says. “We had a front row seat to your epic romance. Sorry we couldn't return the favor.”

 

Stromer waves his hand. “We forgive you. But you need to share the deets.”

 

“Are you sure?” Mitch says widening his eyes faux-innocently.

 

Stromer takes a metaphorical step back. “In retrospect, forget I say anything.”

 

Auston laughs and Mitch relaxes, because he knows him and Auston are solid, but this is the first time they talk about them with someone who’s not family—Mitch told his parents and brother immediately. Auston waited until he went back to Arizona, but Mitch has been getting texts and Snaps from Auston’s sisters and parents. All is well.

 

“We can tell you it happened at Eichs’,” Auston says.

 

“Does he know?” Davo asks, because of course he does.

 

“You’re the only ones besides our families, but we’ve no plans to keep this a secret,” Auston says resolutely. “We are going to tell Sid as soon as we can.”

 

Davo nods approvingly. “It’s kind of the point of what we are doing, right? Making this—being together with whomever you want—accepted in the league.”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says, laying his head on Auston’s shoulder. That’s kind of the point. He doesn't know how things will shape up, and he doesn't want to worry about it today, when he’s surrounded by his closest friends. But he does want to make hockey a better place for people like him, like Davo, and Stromer and Auston as well as for all those who don't feel safe in their skin, despite all promises of acceptance and equality.

 

**VII.**

 

_For all the support that this incredible initiative has had, there are several notable silent voices. When asked about it, Crosby shrugs. “It’s not surprising, isn’t it?”_

_Indeed, in some cases it’s not. The political situation in Russia hasn't improved over the past several years since this project was set in motion. As such, none of the Russian players has been involved in it. Whether they’ve been asked, or whether they are supportive behind close doors, we aren’t told._

_“It’s not for us to say,” Crosby states resolutely. Many of the NHL captains echo this sentiment. “We knew going in that this would be something that needed careful handling,” Crosby continues. “Whatever they think is what they think. As long as they uphold the rules and keep playing clean and good hockey, everything’s going to be fine.”_

_Of course, everything is not going to be fine, since there are several Russian players in the league and in juniors, some of them with tremendous clout. Yet, it’s difficult not to feel sympathetic towards people like Alexander Ovechkin, the captain of the Washington Capitals, and Evgeni Malkin, the alternate captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins. They have been the face of Russian hockey in the NHL and on the world stage for the past fifteen years and they’ve always been involved in a large number of charities, both in North America and Russia. This, however, is different. The cultural change we’re witnessing is occurring as they approach retirement and it must not be easy for them, and for their fellow Russians, to see a sort of paradigm shift without being able to do much about it one way or another._

_In other cases, this lack of involvement is more troubling. Jonathan Toews, the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks—soon to be renamed something else, if Crosby and his crusaders have their way—did a lot behind the scene but never spoke out in public in the last three years. He agreed to being interviewed for this piece, but with great reluctance. Part of it must be connected with his notorious teammate Patrick Kane._

_“Sid called me in August 2017,” Toews remembers. “It had been a weird period for me. A weird summer. We’d been kicked out of the playoffs in four games by the Preds [Nashville Predators] and then, not long after, Chicago had hosted the NHL Entry Draft. I’d gone away to recharge and figure things out, but Sid got a hold of me. He always knows where to find me. It’s uncanny.” There is humor in his eyes, so he mustn’t mind._

_“He gave me some pretty disturbing news,” Toews continues, and he’s the only one among all the players whom we interviewed who is willing to share some details. “Some of the veteran players were targeting rookies deliberately. He gave me names and he gave me dates and I was frankly horrified.”_

_Toews’ liberal views are well known—more so than Crosby’s, who is the most reserved on all current NHL players. Toews’ expression when he recalls this alleged harassment still conveys the dismay over Crosby’s revelations._

_“There wasn't much I could do besides believing him and offering him my unconditional support.”_

_When asked about why he did not take a center stage role, Toews frowns. “I didn't think it was my place. That wasn't where my focus needed to be, at least not then. I felt like I had to work first in Chicago, within the organization. After all, we’d already weathered a storm the previous year with Shawszy [Andrew Shaw]. Still, when I heard what Sid had to say, I realized I wasn't doing enough.”_

_Toews doesn't come out and say it, but one of the main issues must have been Patrick Kane himself, who not only never endorsed YCP, but also didn't take a significant role in any of the initiatives most of the players signed up for. Rumor has it that the entire Blackhawks locker-room was in upheaval that summer and during the following season, although whatever was going on didn't impact the team’s on-ice performance. Whether that was actually the case, nobody is willing to confirm. Things must have begun to change, however, and the Chicago Blackhawks’ more active involvement in Pride Week, as well as other events supporting gay rights, followed shortly thereafter._

_When asked directly about Kane, Toews shakes his head. “You’ll need to talk to him. I speak for myself and for the team, but not for the individual players.”_

_It’s a contradictory statement, but one that Toews is standing by. To be sure, it’s unclear whether Kane stayed out of the limelight because of his colorful past or because of his views—in this sense, he’s as hard to assess as his Russian colleagues._

_The Dallas Stars’ delay in joining Crosby’s effort has also been discussed in the media. The Texan team took a while to get on with the program—almost eighteen months. Its captain, Jamie Benn, preferred to leave the center stage to his teammate Tyler Seguin and work behind the scene. The two of them accepted to sit down for this reportage, but Benn is clearly uncomfortable. Seguin is more relaxed, but then, he always is._

_“Yep, that was us,” Seguin says, “stuck in the Stone Age. Part of it was Dallas—we hadn’t even participated in the league’s Pride initiative that season. Part of it, however, was the locker-room culture.”_

_Both Benn and Seguin are locked in multi-million dollars contract with no movement clauses, but they are hesitant to discuss the difficulty the players encountered with upper management._

_“It’s Dallas, you know,” Benn explains, “not Los Angeles. It was a challenge.”_

_“And neither of us had the best track record with these things,” Seguin admits, referring to some of his and Benn’s unfortunate social-media faux-passes._

_“Not to mention our poor performance on camera on some occasions,” Benn adds._

_When asked what make them—and their teammates—change their mind, Benn and Seguin look at each other._

_“A lot of things happened at the beginning of 2019,” Seguin recalls. “I am not going to discuss any of them, because they’re none of my business. But they really brought home the fact that what the other players were trying to accomplish was actually needed.”_

_“I personally felt like I was missing a train,” Benn admits. “Like we’d been given this great opportunity and I was letting it slip through my finger because of some stupid prejudice. One of the people I talked often during that period was Dylan Strome.”_

_That’s a surprise. Although the middle Strome brother has been at the forefront from the beginning with Crosby, McDavid, Matthews and Giroux, he’s more often than not chosen to let others lead._

_“That was kind of his thing during those months,” Benn explains. “He reached out to people who patently didn't get it and tried to figure out what was so difficult for them to understand. He kept telling me—and everyone who’d listen to him—that ours was a learned behavior, and we could unlearn it. Eventually he got through me.”_

_It may have helped that Strome has been very candid about having to unlearn these behaviors himself._

_“For me it was Connor [McDavid], you know. He was ahead of the curve even about this,” he laughs. “I felt like I could offer something other players hadn’t experience, so I went for it.”_

_“Others have said it,” Seguin adds, “but it’s been humbling to learn so much from younger players.”_

_“And it helped nobody was ever judgmental,” Benn stresses. “When I said I wasn't interested, Sid just told me to call me when I changed my mind.”_

_“When?” we ask, and Benn and Seguin look at each other and laugh._

_“Yeah,” Benn confirms. “That should have tipped us off.”_

_The struggles encountered along the road don't appear to have put a damper on Crosby and his fellow crusaders’ will to overcome any and all obstacles._

_“There is no going back, now,” Crosby asserts. “We’ve been working on this for a while, and we’ve built a lot of bridges. The younger generations of players will continue to work to make sure that hockey remains as inclusive at it is humanly possible. We’re not leaving anyone behind.”_

_Crosby might be right. Although no NHL player came out in the past three years, at the time when the events this reportage detailed unfolded, several people we interviewed made it clear there are indeed bisexual and gay players in the league. That this is a well-known fact, although an equally well kept secret, is already progress. In addition, the number of minorities represented in the NHL has increased as the work of the players began to trickle down. At the same time, minority players have been recruited by the junior leagues as well as by the USNDTP and other programs in higher numbers than ever before. It’s going to take a while, but things are definitely changing._

_When asked to look back and think about when it all began, Crosby goes quiet for several moments. He doesn't seem to be bothered by the question; rather, he’s surprised by the complexity of his answer._

_“There wasn't one defining moment, I don't think,” he notes. “I’d argue instead there were some major ones interspersed with minor things I noticed but didn't do anything about.”_

_Something must have tipped the scale towards action, rather than inaction, however._

_“Yes, that’s correct,” Crosby admits with a smile. “But, like it is often the case in these circumstances, it is not my story to tell. Though I wouldn't worry too much if I were in you. I am sure you’ll hear about it soon enough.”_

_Crosby looks at us with his trademark crooked smile, an amused light in his eyes. One can’t help but feeling a bit envious of all the secrets this remarkable individual has been tasked with keeping. He bears their weight with the same grace and poise he’s borne the responsibility of being the face of the NHL for the past fifteen years._

_“I agree with Sid,” McDavid confirms. “I think people whose stories brought about these radical changes are ready to have their story heard. Carrying out this important work more openly will go a long way in silencing the critics and in bridging more gaps among different groups.”_

_Whether Crosby and McDavid are correct in their predictions, only time will tell. For now, they are enjoying not only the fact that their teams have made it to the playoffs once again, with time to spare; they are also able to appreciate how the hard work they put into this extraordinary project for the past three years is finally paying off. It must be quiet nice being them, right about now._

**June 1 st 2020 – Toronto ACC Arena**

**Edmonton Oilers @ Maple Leafs – Game One – Stanley Cup Final**

 

“Marns, where the fuck is my helmet?” Kappy yells from across the locker-room, because in all the years Mitch has known him, he’s never mastered the art of using his inside-voice.

 

“How would I know?” Mitch says. He might have become Flower’s most promising pupil—and he takes his training seriously—but he’s not going to mess with his teammates one hour before their first Stanley Cup Final game. He’s not an idiot.

 

“I got it, Kappy,” Willy says running into the locker-room. What he was doing with it, god only knows. Mitch sure doesn't want to.

 

Auston is sitting in his usual spot, head in his hands, trying to tune out everything else. Mitch’s phone buzzes, and it’s Stromer, of course, who is running the betting poll among all their friends at Sid’s insistence—he didn't trust Tanger to do it. From what Mitch knows about Kris Letang—and his source of information is Flower—he doesn't blame Sid one bit.

 

_You good?_ Stromer says, because he and Connor might be pretty much engaged, but he’s still Mitch’s best friend.

 

_Great. How’s your better half?_ Mitch texts. He’s not trying to get inside info—honestly. Davo’s his best friend too, even if right now Mitch wants him to get a cold and not play for the next two weeks.

 

_Ready to kick ur ass,_ Stromer answers promptly, and Mitch snorts, because of course.

 

_Tell him I love him, even if I might have to kill him_ , Mitch texts.

 

_He says he loves u 2. This radio-silence you guys have for the duration of the final is idiotic. Im gonna hafta carry messages back and forth._

_W/e. Its not like u’ve somthng better to do,_ Mitch responds.

 

_Low blow, Marns._

Well, it’s not his fault if the Coyotes got kicked out of the playoffs during the first round.

 

_Hows ur better half?_ Stromer asks.

 

_Communing with the hockey gods, Id say._

_Hopefully, they'll listen,_ is Stromer’s uncharitable response. He’s not wrong. The Oilers are favored to win the Stanley Cup Final—they had an amazing season, swept through the first three rounds and Connor and Drai have been unstoppable since late January.

 

Yet, people shouldn't be discounting the Leafs just yet. Sure, they are plagued with injuries—Zach is out for the season and Brownie will miss the first two games because of a nasty cold—but they are determined to win this.

 

Babs comes in for his last minute uplifting speech and Mitch tries to pay attention, honest, but his mind keeps going back to the decision he and Matts made at the beginning of the season. Regardless of the results, they are going to come out. It’s all about logistics, and about whether Dylan and Davo are coming out too.

 

Mitch knows it’s the right thing to do, and the right time to do it. Him and Auston are solid—so solid, in fact, that they’d get married tomorrow if it weren’t for the fact that both parental units asked them to wait until they turn at least twenty-five—like age is really gonna matter. But they’re waiting, because they love their parents, and they’re both going to be UFA next year anyway. The plan is to stay in Toronto for their hockey career—Auston loves Arizona, but he wants to play hockey in Canada, because he’s awesome like that. But plans change, so they want to be prepared for all eventualities.

 

A pat of his head brings Mitch back to the present, and it’s Auston, holding Mitch’s helmet like it’s made of gold. Mitch grabs it and smacks Auston on the shoulder.

 

“All set?” he asks.

 

“As much as possible,” Matts answers. He’s a bit white around the eyes, but Mitch has played with him long enough to know he’s going to settle once he’s on the ice.

 

“You?”

 

“Come on, Matts, I was born set,” Mitch says.

 

“That doesn't even make sense,” Matts says.

 

“You don't make sense,” Mitch chirps.

 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mo interjects. Then he continues, “If you lovebirds are done with the foreplay, we have a Stanley Cup to win.”

 

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Mitch grumbles. They always pick on him, even if he’s an angel.”

 

Matts swats him on the ass, and Mitch winks at him.

 

“Davo sends his regards, by the way,” Mitch says, because Stromer had passed that message along too.

 

“Davo better worry about his fucking game,” Auston says ferociously, and at that moment no one would realize Davo’s one of Auston’s best friend—to be fair, it’s a well kept secret, one only very few people are aware of.

 

“I’m sure he is,” Mitch says in a conciliatory tone. “Let’s try not to destroy the competition, though, okay?”

 

“We’ll see,” Matts makes no promises. Mitch is not worried. Matts shuts up critics and fans with his game, and not with his fists or with dirty plays.

 

As they skate onto the ice after having made their way through the tunnels lined with screaming fans, Mitch raises his eyes to the jumbotron, which is showing the highlights of the Leafs’ road to the Stanley Cup Final. It’s been a wild ride, made even more electric by the coverage of their efforts to fight against discrimination in hockey. They’ve all come a long way in the past three years, and Mitch is so very proud of himself and of his friends. It’s the Stanley Cup Final, and it matters. But in Mitch’s view, they’ve all already won.

 

 


End file.
